Cigars, bones, babies and Jimmy Blackhorse
by fictionalmike
Summary: AU: Lt Cdr Teresa Coulter first met Lt Cdr Harmon Rabb during "The Return of Jimmy Blackhorse". After the case, she invites him out for dinner and they find they have more in common than simply a love of cigars! That night, their lives intersect forever and the adventures begin, exploiting both their skillsets. Terri proves that marriage and kids with Harm do not impede her career.
1. Arizona encounter 1998

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse.**

 **Lt Cdr Teresa Coulter meets LtCdr Harmon Rabb during "The Return of Jimmy Blackhorse". After the completion of the case, she invites him out for dinner and she successfully overcomes his initial reluctance to get involved with her. They have more in common than cigars!**

 **A/N: "** ** _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any character created by myself_** **".**

 **Summary: this is a fictional story, in a fictional (slightly) Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005. It involves a minor diversion from canon, at the tail end of episode S03p21, which introduced us to the character of Lt Cdr Teresa Coulter, MD, USNR.**

 **Canon** : Marking the 19th anniversary of the JAG season 04 episode "Nobody's Child", first broadcast on 02-Mar-1999 (IMDB) and approaching the 20th anniversary of the JAG season 03 episode "The Return of Jimmy Blackhorse" (S03Ep21), first broadcast on 28-04-1998 (IMDB).

This Season 03 episode introduced us to the character of Lt Cdr Teresa Coulter, portrayed by Trisha Yearwood. Her character was to work alongside Harmon Rabb in some six episodes and adventures over around five years in the time arc that was "JAG". She mainly worked with him on "human interest" cases where her forensic skills helped enhance the plot, such as S04E17 "Nobody's Child" in February 1999, where Teresa made the observation " _You're an interesting specimen Commander; does anyone get close?_ " (which struck me as a remarkably observant and prescient comment, then planted the seed for this foray into AU land). I have cherry-picked a couple of lines of back-narrative from the excellent " **Enough is Enough** " re-imagining by the late, great and much-missed fellow UK-based writer, Trevor aka **byrhthelm.**

 **Background: Teresa Coulter** , a USN reservist forensic pathologist holding the rank of Lieutenant Commander, was first called in to assist in identification of the remains of Jimmy Blackhorse ( **"The Return of Jimmy Blackhorse - S03Ep21")** and was upset over missing her godson's school play. She was apparently smitten with Harm but he was oblivious. She smoked cigars and told him that her father was in the _"8th year of a life sentence for killing her mother"_ and that she _"had already judged herself"_ . She also told Harm she _"wished she wasn't so attracted to him."_ The pressure of her father's trial had destroyed her marriage. The interplay between her character and Harmon Rabb's character was well-crafted, well-written and beautifully acted, along with her observations of the Navajo people: " _these people think differently_ " and " _they don't have a lot, but what they do have is good_ ".

 **Published as a planned one-shot with a "T" classification (they get "down and naughty"). A follow-up is possible, depending on reviews received within the first month after publication.**

 **Timing:** This AU story diverges from canon after the court hearings are closed in the Navajo Nation after the Jimmy Blackhorse case. Subsequently, the lives of Harm and Teresa take a different path...

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Part One - "Arizona encounter"**

 **Friday, 28th April 1998 - 15:25hrs local**

 **Native Court, Navaho Nation, Yuma, AZ**

The chocolate cigar was a nice touch - she had fooled him completely when she handed it to him at the end of the case! Just as she had wrong-footed him in the laboratory as she calmly extracted the bone-marrow DNA and paid him the ultimate compliment by confessing that she was attracted to him.

She had found the experience frustrating. It was just too bad that he stepped away from her closeness and seemed to pine, like a long-lost puppy, for the dark-haired part-Cherokee Marines Major JAG who seemed to hang around his tall, lanky frame like a camp-follower who had never worked out how to "close the deal". Teresa had been surprised to hear the Major talk about her Cherokee heritage. When Teresa had first met Harm's co-counsel Sarah "the Mac" MacKenzie, USMC JAGC, the woman had looked more Persian than Cherokee (in Teresa's professional medical opinion).

Teresa considered her situation and assessed her options, as the tall object of her desires continued to play with his chocolate cigar. She noted that he savoured the chocolate cigar for a while, nibbling then finally swallowing as the warm April Arizona air finally softened the stiff chocolate. He licked his fingers and winked at the mildly-disapproving glare from his Marine JAG partner. Teresa handed him a tissue: he nodded gratefully and gave her his trademark wide smile; she felt something inside her melt and had to concentrate on keeping her knees stiff as he turned back to Mackenzie to make some legal point.

Teresa watched the by-play between the two JAG lawyers. She snorted in derision; why couldn't this healthy, apparently-unattached man just *yield" and let her make him realise that there *were* stars in the heavens and that, with judicious application of some pheromones and endorphins, she could take him into low earth orbit with just one (very solid) rocket booster? She was a trained physician (and pathologist) and she *knew* how the human body worked! Oh yeah baby, she could make his body sing - if only he would allow her the chance!

With her professional reputation established in the Memphis PD as a forensic pathologist, her father in the 8th year of a life sentence for killing her mother and with her marriage to Rory in ashes long ago, all she wanted for completion was a warm body in her bed occasionally (preferably a body containing a sharp mind to give her intellectual stimulation whilst also satisfying her carnal needs). A succession of unsatisfactory couplings (mainly drawn from the detective squad in MPD who appeared to be running a book on how far she would "go") had left her frustrated over several years.

With neither brothers, sisters nor Mom to consult with, Terri was seriously beginning to wonder whether life was passing her by. Oh, the view from the shelf (or, more accurately. the basement ME lab - why was it always in the basement, she wondered) was fine, but something was lacking. Then the tall ex-Tomcat-driving lawyer from JAG had wandered into her laboratory for this Navajo case and had leaned, ever-closer, into her space until she could feel her body responding to his presence...

Teresa had hoped that her godson's school play might open doors with unattached intelligent males amongst the single parents, but this recall to the USN reserves and the flight out to Nowhere Arizona (in her considered - or biased - opinion) had blown that plan out of the water. Looking around the Navajo tribal gatherings during this case had also reminded her that the next generation of children were growing and developing, whilst she stayed hidden away in her laboratory, speaking eloquently on behalf of the dead.

However, she had found that she had enjoyed her time mixing with the tribal council and the tribal people, realising that their lives ran to a different order. Her views had shifted, permanently, during her brief foray into Arizona. She had begun to realise that families could be good and kind; perhaps her experiences as the only offspring of Capt Thomas Chaddock and Ellen Chaddock was not typical and had bequeathed her a dismally biased view of families. Additionally, her experience of Rory " _I run away from pressure_ " Coulter had not given her any faith in the institution of marriage.

She shrugged her shoulders and looked once more at the tall JAG Commander as he chatted easily with the Major. She noted that their body language was relaxed, but each respected the other's space; they were close, but not touching. Teresa felt that a psychologist would have a "field day" studying the "Harm & Mac" pairing, as their colleague Lt Bud Roberts had described them. She had also enjoyed watching Bud's interactions with Lt Harriet Sims, especially after their doomed foray into Las Vegas to get married quickly.

For the first time in her 31 years of life, Teresa Coulter was beginning to understand the expression "ticking clock" in relation to the biological imperative. Losing her mother at the age of just 22 had robbed her of Mom's wise counsel as she grew into her life as a married woman, so when Rory had run, she saw no reason to look beyond a "quickie" divorce. But that removed the obvious route to creating the next generation. Teresa realised that she was now in her fourth decade of life: she couldn't keep hitting "snooze" forever on her fertility clock.

Several years on from her divorce from Rory, she was feeling irritated with the singleton life. She had talked over her frustrations at a recent forensics conference in DC, where an older pathologist/ME, a Dr Donald "Ducky" Mallard of NCIS, had listened attentively and had offered several counter-arguments and opinions - both before and after a spirited (and well-structured) attempt to entice her into his hotel room. "Ducky" had reminded Terri that gentlemen do exist - her view was confirmed by his courteous behaviour which continued even after she had politely declined his offer. Ducky had continued the evening in convivial manner and paid for their meal before thanking her for her time, company and opinions as he headed for his solo bed.

Then suddenly, just as she was beginning to believe that no-one would truly appreciate and enjoy her womanly charms, this Fly-boy god had landed in her temporary laboratory, seeking *her* expertise in solving *his* case of the WWII code-talker whose body had been retrieved in New Zealand. In the forensics laboratory, their bodies had moved closer as she had prepared the samples, his cologne filling her senses until she realised that moistening was about to cause her a problem. She felt that she had the right to make the first move and declare her attraction to the Navy JAG flyer.

His hesitant, surprised rebuff acted as a bucket of cold water over her ardour. She rationalised that the Commander would remain professionally resolute in their dealings: to him, she seemed to be regarded somehow like a nun: inviolate, chaste, locked up from the temptations of passionate coupling and...

Whoa! where did that come from? She, LtCdr Teresa Coulter MD, USN reserve, was a healthy woman in her prime; in these liberated 1990s, she was just as free (and entitled) to initiate a contact with a handsome man as the next handsome guy was to make a pass at her. And this Rabb guy definitely floated her boat. There was no risk of a Tailhook-type fallout, because they were not only in different chains of command and she lived several states away, for crying out loud! This Rabb guy was definitely worth a second push, because she wouldn't be kicking him out of her bed too soon in the morning...

With the Blackhorse court case satisfactorily settled and the JAG crew lining up to return to DC the next day, her window of opportunity was small, finite but achievable. She noted that the "Mad Major" was heading off with Paul Begay (apparently to carry out some personal Cherokee-Navajo research - the exact nature didn't really worry Terri, because it left her target in the open without his brunette Marine comfort blanket).

She planned her next approach as they walked back into the courthouse to retrieve their papers after the heart-warming tribal gathering which had welcomed Jimmy Blackhorse (the New Zealand-based son) and his mother to the Arizona heartland after their long journey from the " _Land of the Long White Cloud_ " for the reconciliation with the widow of Jimmy's twin brother. Harm had discussed his attraction to cigars earlier and Teresa had retrieved a couple of Cohiba SIGLO II cigars (acquired during a trip to London where she had found a small cigar shop near Victoria) from the small humidor in her briefcase and had them nestled inside her jacket, warmed inside her uniform blouse and steadily absorbing her musk - within ten hours he would be able to smell her (* _and only her_ *, she thought to herself hopefully) around his cigar stash. So, the part-Cherokee Marines Major could take her pinched-face disapproval and ... _Steady Terri, focus on the target! It's the man, not his harem_!

With papers secured, briefcase filled and locked, Harmon Rabb Jr left the courtroom, shook her hand and accepted the real cigar from her as he headed for the fresh air outside the court. Running the cigar beneath his nose, he inhaled deeply and then realised that here was a sweet, aromatic note to the cigar aroma. Hang on, that smelt like..." his eyes swivelled around trying to locate Teresa Coulter in the madness of the main rodeo. Then he spotted her cover, moving through the crowd as she stopped and turned in his direction.

Beneath the brim of her uniform hat, her eyes sought him out and playfully twinkled. He realised that she was not going to leave him alone without trying once more to introduce him to her womanly charms. He realised that, to be honest, she had surprised him in the laboratory and caught him off-guard with her direct play for his affections. On calm and sober reflection he realised, why should a woman *not* make a pass at a man whom she found attractive?

He considered the situation. It was a Friday night. The Blackhorse case was over and the Admiral responsible had a good PR story which smoothed over the political (note, small "p") challenges. Harm reconsidered; maybe he had been a little hasty. He needed to listen, at least, to her offer and evaluate her proposition. He suspected that, hidden beneath her conformant Naval uniform, a very fit and responsive body lay. His mother had, long ago, taught him to seek a woman with what she termed " _child-bearing hips_ " and, from any angle, Teresa Coulter had the body. Perhaps his original reticence had been misguided and she had caught him unprepared? Teresa Coulter was definitely worth a second (and maybe a third!) look now that the Blackhorse case was closed.

Terri was perfectly calm, professional and logical, as she used her cigar clipper to prepare the end of her cigar before lighting it. " _Bait the hook then let the fish nibble_ ". She smiled at him as she pitched her proposition: "Commander, I hate to eat alone and it looks like your colleague has headed off to research the Denae - or maybe she just fancies the Silicon Valley lawyer from that tribe! Would you be amenable to keeping me company over dinner at the motel, perhaps?"

She paused, giving him a way out in the interests of fair play as she lit her cigar: "I promise, if the prospect doesn't appeal, I shall just turn round now, walk away and will never darken your hatch again". Behind her back, she kept her fingers crossed.

She was rewarded when his face cracked into a lovely smile and he nodded, taking her proffered cigar cutter and preparing his cigar as he decided to delay (only for a day, honest!) his abandonment of cigars. The buxom blonde Tennessee temptress standing before him was just too irresistible and Mac probably wouldn't find out about his lapse!

He realised that Terri's original approach (in the laboratory) had been polite, respectful and he recalled that she had accepted his original brush-off in the same polite manner. Such a change from the last smoking blonde to tilt her hat at him. Merely the thought of Allison Krennick and her persistent cougar-like stalking of him made his toes curl; perhaps Teresa Coulter deserved a second conversation, now that the case was closed? After all, if she was the hunter he could quite easily imagine himself becoming the willing prey. He decided to roll over and play. Now, what did he want from her in return? He drafted his reply carefully.

"Commander, that would be lovely and I also hate eating alone in a strange town. Might I please confess that I was pleasantly-surprised by your earlier approach in the laboratory but was just caught off-guard in a professional setting? So I believe it would be a lovely evening for us to meet up, now that the case is closed and we are off-duty; shall we meet in the bar at 19:00hrs? I'll be dressing casually".

"So will I - and it's Terri now that we have been introduced formally!"

"OK, please call me Harm; I shall meet you at 19:00hrs, Terri".

They separated, to prepare for the evening.

 **Friday, 28th April 1998 - 18:59hrs local**

 **Totem Motel, Navaho Nation, Yuma, AZ**

He walked into the bar a minute ahead of time and looked around for the blonde LtCdr. He wanted to let her take the lead during the early part of the evening, so that he could find out her plans for the rest of the evening.

A wide-brimmed hat entered the bar and was removed, allowing a cascade of blonde locks to tumble down over the shoulders of a cowboy-style embroidered blouse which was tucked into the waist of a pair of jeans which were definitely snugly fitted to a female form. Walking towards him, wearing what were "definitely" non-standard pumps with three-inch stiletto heels, Cdr Teresa Coulter rocked her way into Harmon Rabb's field of view, with her hand outstretched in greeting.

Terri had planned her outfit, supplemented by a purchase from the local souvenir shop at the trading post. She wanted to be clear in what she was laying out for Harmon Rabb Jr. Anything that this amateur bitch-Major could do, so could the well-endowed pathologist with the deep pools of passion burning in her eyes as Harm leaned in and prepared to dive...

Harm was lost!

Within two minutes, the Tennessee Temptress had him lassoed, hog-tied, roped and branded. They chose their drinks at the bar and then strolled into the dining area, selecting an intimate booth where they sat, facing each other, reviewing the learning points of the case, getting to know each other, exchanging family histories and selecting the dishes from each course of their meal. Several hours passed as they lingered over each course of their meal, during which time Terri played with her hair, unbuttoned several buttons on her blouse (she was, of course, wearing a demure white t-shirt beneath the blouse, but Harm started to feel that he was witnessing his very own "dance of the seven veils" laid on just for him).

He cleared his throat with some difficulty and tried to get his brain out of his trousers and focussed on asking an intelligent question, in order to move the conversation forward.

"Terri, you said that your father is serving life for murdering your mother?"

"Yes, he is in the eighth year of a life sentence; I was 22 when he killed her. It also killed my marriage."

"I am so sorry to hear that - you seem to have found your niche as a forensic pathologist. Did one cause the other?" Harm enquired.

"Yes; the Navy paid my way through med school, then I did a body-swerve into forensics because I realised that no-one usually speaks for the victim. The USN Reserves role keeps me on my toes and enables me to serve my country occasionally, as well as concentrating on the people of the great city of Memphis and the great state of Tennessee".

Harm nodded sympathetically: "I lost my father over Vietnam when I was five; at least you had your parents as role models?"

Terri snorted in derision: "Barely; he started drinking when I was in Junior High, so in a way I lost him to the bottle in my teenage years. Mom was lovely, but she became an obedient, dependent doormat - and you really can't see me fitting that role model, can you?" She finished her question with a toss of her hair.

Harm smiled knowingly and shook his head. Terri continued: "The pressures drove me apart from Rory, who wanted to get away so badly that he took a job clear across the country; when Mom died, he just took off". She looked down at her fingertips which, Harm noticed, were beautifully manicured and then looked up at him: "You seem fairly well balanced; so how are you and your Major getting along?"

Harm smiled: "Mac and I have a great working relationship - we've been partnered since '96 and I trust her instincts whilst she supports my flights of fancy. She's quite intellectual whilst I'm more cerebral".

"So, ever tempted to cross the line with her?"

He smiled wistfully, shaking his head regretfully.

"Honestly, Terri, no; I once said to her, as we were protecting a visiting dignitary at a formal NATO Ball and we were dancing together, that I regarded dancing with her as dancing with my sister, which really pissed her off considering the dress which she had painted on just for my benefit (I'm an only child, in the interests of full and frank disclosure, you understand!); it was quite a dress".

He paused and took a deep breath before continuing: "Plus, Mac bears an uncanny resemblance to my late girlfriend Diane, so it took me a long time to separate the two before I kissed her".

"Oh, one whole kiss?" Teresa was curious. What was it about this tall, good-looking Californian man, who oozed charm and temptation, but seemed so reserved, almost withdrawn, in the social setting where they found themselves? Harm's next sentence started to explain his apparent social awkwardness.

"Not really; we caught up with Diane's killer, Mac had been soaked earlier in the rain so she borrowed a USN Lieutenant's uniform from Bud Roberts' fiancée Harriet (oh, I wish that they had successfully married yesterday in Vegas!) and the killer thought she was Diane's ghost when she turned up in the middle of my confrontation with him. He got scared, backed away from her and fell into the dock, where he was crushed between the ship and the dock wall. In the end, we realised that we would never know if the killer thought that she was Diane's ghost, and I was so stressed and disoriented by this stage that I just leaned in and took a risk. So Terri, that is one whole kiss with Mac in two years of co-working; not quite a check-mark, let alone a line, in your book of competing females, is it?""

Terri smiled: "yeah, that sounds like a good specimen of mixed working relationships". At least Harm was starting to open up. She could do this guy some good tonight - and scratch one of her itches at the same time. She concentrated on listening to his reply, drinking in the smile lines around his eyes.

"Oh, you like specimens?" Harm was looking deep into her eyes, challenging her to yield up some snippet of what made Teresa Coulter tick.

She smiled, leaned closer, took his hand and replied: **"You're an interesting specimen Harm; does anyone get close?"**

He drew back, looking regretful: "Well, not recently - and not for want of trying". Idly, he rotated the ring on the ring finger of her left hand. Her body stiffened and she leaned in closer to whisper in his ear. "Well Harm, the evening is yet young".

She leaned back in her chair, the unbuttoned blouse falling away around her t-shirt-clad assets. She found herself wishing that she had worn a slightly thicker bra - her body was rising to reflect the attraction to him.

As they grew more comfortable with each other, Terri's crossed legs were perfectly positioned to run her stiletto-shod foot up the inside of Harm's calf muscle, stroking and massaging his muscle with the side of her shoe then with the pointed tip. From the flushed expression on his face and his increased respiration rate, the physician inside Terri Coulter knew exactly the effect which she was having on him. However, Harm's leg never retreated. She noticed that his smile grew broader.

Now, the only remaining task was to select the dessert, accompany him through the coffee and then get him alone, where she wanted him. Terri was quite certain that "wanted" was the appropriate word when discussing her plans for the tall navy aviator turned JAG, who sat before her showing all the signs of raised endorphin levels and blood pressure, accompanied by rampaging hormones...

Harm barely remembered ordering the coffee.

 **Saturday, 29th April 1998 - 07:14hrs local**

 **Room 17, Totem Motel, Navaho Nation, Yuma, AZ**

He surfaced slowly, with a bright shaft of sunlight striking across the bed and illuminating a mane of blonde hair which lay across his chest, covering the face and leading down to the naked body of a sleeping pathologist who lay tightly curled around his body.

He nudged her. "Terri?" - no response; "Teresa, sweetheart, it's time to wake up". She began to surface slowly, as their bodies remained entangled. Each was, independently, sleepy yet satisfied by the previous night's encounter, which had migrated from the restaurant via the bar to the bedroom. Their adjoining bedrooms in the motel had been an added bonus.

A slurred, sleepy voice expressed her irritation at being disturbed. " _Don't wanna; comfy here; fly me once more, Tomcat Lawyer boy_ " she murmured, stretching a naked leg across his belly and rubbing her knee across a sensitive part of his anatomy - which began, inevitably, to respond to the contact.

"Terri, I'm happy to come back to bed for 'round eight' but I *really* need the bathroom first - and we fly out at 14:00hrs". He lifted some of her hair out of her face and then flashed her a smile and made a promise: "I'll be quick".

Terri woke more fully, rolled off him and pulled a sheet over her body as she called after his departing six: "You were never quick last night!" Stretching her entire body with the grace of a contented cat, she smiled at him and watched as he completed his dash into the bathroom, then watched him sprint through the connecting door to his room as she surveyed the wreckage of their bed. Awaiting his return, she quickly set the small coffee maker to work and then made the same bathroom dash in her adjoining room before returning to the warmth of their bed.

A comfortable, companionable silence persisted for a few minutes as the two naval officers enjoyed their coffee. Then Terri opened the discussion.

"Harm; thank you for your company yesterday evening and last night. I have had a wonderful time. You have a great skill in making a woman feel wanted, loved and appreciated. You also helped me to lay a ghost from my past, so thank you once more. I hope that you got what you wanted out of this, because I definitely did and I suspect - from the big smile on your face at Oh Christ hundred hours whilst you were sleeping - you did too." She leaned in and kissed him. The discipline of naval life had ensured that they had both brushed their teeth whilst in the bathroom.

His arms snaked around her body and pulled her close as she set her coffee cup on the bedside table and concentrated on him once more. She settled on top of him, her long legs straddling him, squeezing him between her strong thighs and settling her breasts on his chest. She sighed, long and slow, as her body once more moulded itself to him. Once more, she felt herself heating up as her body prepared itself to receive him one more time.

"OK Mr Aviator Lawyer; who wants to be on top this morning?" she asked as her hands pressed his shoulders back into the bed and her hungry body pressed itself once more against his anatomy. He gazed up in wonder at her physical assets and whispered "not me - I am just fine, grounded down here" as she lowered herself and prepared to take him back into orbit.

Harm wondered whether every divorced woman blossomed so enthusiastically after her divorce. He was glad that Terri had not been entirely celibate since she divorced Rory - from her performance last night, he felt that such a circumstance would have been a crime inflicted on the men of this world and he briefly envied the men of the Memphis PD. Then he lost the power of conscious thought for a good ten minutes, as Typhoon Terri kicked Tomcat Rabb back into orbit and brought him back down for a smooth landing as Satisfied Harm.

An hour later, two freshly-showered US Navy officers walked into the breakfast room, ready to begin the day which would see them travel back to their respective locations in Memphis and DC.

 **Saturday, 29th April 1998 - 13:05hrs local (MT)**

 **Passenger "terminal", MCAS Yuma, AZ**

At the very moment that her flight was called, he caught her eye. As he headed to his gate, with his carry-on, the blonde bombshell sat in her neat USN uniform, hair swept up and pinned out of sight beneath her cover. She was looking at him, relaxed, with a plethora of bags around her feet, which she would be carrying onboard with her. She stood up to wave him goodbye, one hand smoothing down the creases in her skirt and marking her return to her status as a braced, formal LtCdr in the USN reserves after the wanton, giving, involving, teasing and very satisfying woman with whom he had shared (and wrecked) a bed the previous night.

He smiled and waved farewell. She smiled back and he held up a hand in the international "call me" sign, before she turned once more, finally heading for her gate at the start of her return routing to Memphis.

Harm had admired her womanly curves as she had turned away finally, to head towards her flight. His heart warmed as he thought back to the wonderful body (now concealed beneath the peanut butter uniform) which had given them great mutual pleasure during the preceding 18 hours.

Standing alongside him, Mac looked briefly at the rear view of the departing buxom naval reservist as she headed for her gate, opened her mouth to ask Harm about the previous night, then thought better of it as she remembered her own legal manoeuvres on behalf of the Cherokee Nation with the Navajo representative!

Gathering up Bud and Harriet, the two satisfied and relaxed JAG lawyers headed out onto the tarmac to their MAT flight.

 **The summer of 1998 was to provide the JAG corps with a challenging range of cases throughout the summer. All too soon, Harm was looking out over the gardens of JAG HQ at the turning colours of the leaves. He regularly thought of his blonde bombshell from Tennessee, but he respected the fact that she had not contacted him and he did not wish to intrude on her life in Memphis. He was satisfied that they had met, worked together and shared an incredible night**.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Part Two - "Unexpected news"**

 **Monday, 25th September 1998 - 07:24hrs EST**

 **JAG HQ, Falls Church, VA**

LtCdr Harmon Rabb was chatting with Admiral Chegwidden as they waited for the coffee to brew. Major Sarah Mackenzie was also standing in the small kitchen area, awaiting her first Marine-grade coffee of the day.

Petty Officer (first class) Jason Tiner stuck his head into the room. "Apologies for disturbing your coffee break Commander, but there is a call for you from a pathologist at Memphis PD - a Dr Coulter?"

Mac placed a hand on his forearm. "Harm, you go; I'll bring your coffee". Harm nodded, left his unfilled coffee cup and headed across to his office. Settling into the chair, he picked up the call and announced himself. He had an idea that Memphis only had one "Dr Coulter" so he assumed that he know who this would be, but he was delighted to hear, from her southern tones, that his suspicion was correct. Was she ready to discuss her father's case yet?

"Good morning Harm, it's Terri Coulter".

"Hi Terri, I am so pleased that you have made contact with me. So, how are things in Memphis this morning - you must be in quite early, I guess?"

"Yeah, early morning call: it's 0624hrs here and I have already had my one coffee of the morning - I really miss my second coffee these days. We had a couple of unidentified gunshot victims wheeled in at stupid o'clock this morning and this is my first chance to draw breath and grab a phone." Something at the back of Harm's mind picked up the reference to coffee, but his thought processes blundered onwards.

"Yeah, well I guess that an ME's work is, sadly, never done. So, are you calling to discuss opening your father's case?"

She suddenly seemed hesitant. "What, err, sorry, No - not my dad's case; he can rot in hell for all I care. No, this time round, it is something a little more personal."

Her next words rocked his world and brought him to his feet - just in time for Mac to bring in his coffee (which he had left behind in the galley) and hear him utter the immortal words which she, Sarah Mackenzie, might one day want to hear:

" **You're *what*?** "

"Yes Harm, I am delighted to report that I am pregnant with my first child, which will be a girl. I'm well into my 22nd week - safely past halfway along. The morning sickness is now a distant memory and I felt her kick this morning for the first time".

"How did this happen?". From the distant handset in Memphis, Harm heard Terri's derisive laughter echo down the phone line to DC.

"21 weeks ago. Harm, we are adults are we not? Do you really want me to draw a diagram? You do remember I am a doctor!"

"No, of course not; that was silly of me but your news has come as a bit of a shock. Hold on a moment please, Terri". He gratefully retrieved the coffee cup from Mac's stunned, nerveless fingers and then manoeuvred the shocked Marine out of his office, stretching the telephone cable to its maximum whilst he maintained the conversation with the Memphis ME. He closed the door behind him and walked back to the desk. Terri assumed the reason for his brief interruption and she guessed whom he had been dealing with: "Let me guess - Mac was there when I called you?"

"Yeah, she was; she is a good friend, but I obviously would want us to discuss calmly and rationally your situation just between you and me. So, you are - I assume - around five months along with my baby? How was the morning sickness? Are you having any cravings? What do the medics say? Are you having any problems?" Despite his whirling thoughts on the sudden consideration of impending parenthood, he remembered to think about the practicalities of early pregnancy side-effects.

"Actually Harm, it will be *my* baby and I don't want anything from you - ever - in connection with our baby. Morning sickness was a breeze - I even managed to never barf in the pathology lab, despite the smells down there! Of course, I have finally given up the cigars and I barely missed them at all given my maternal obligations for nine months and then afterwards if I am breastfeeding. My only cravings are for coleslaw, blueberries and spicy chorizo sausage so far; my fruit intake will make me the healthiest mom in the labour & delivery ward in January. I am grateful to you, because you were instrumental in getting me started on the path to motherhood. I needed a viable sperm donor and you fitted the specification: you also managed to hit the target perfectly, the mood was just perfect that night and being amongst the Navajo lands at that time in my life just hit my maternal instincts like a sledgehammer. But I shall always remember you".

"Terri, what may I do to help, assuming that you will allow me to assist and participate and support...?" Harm's sense of duty was running away with his mouth - as Terri had expected when she finally informed him about "the bump".

"Harm, frankly there is nothing that you *must* or *need to* do. You see, I am able, willing, financially independent and planning to set up and maintain a home on my own, for my child. Mom's death - and Dad's arrest and conviction - meant that I liquidated Mom's estate and I have a fully-funded home here in Memphis and a college fund established for "the Bump" - who is obviously showing now, which is another reason why I wanted to call. You are entitled to know that I am pregnant and also that I *need* nothing from you. You have your own life and you have your Mac (which I understand completely), and our ships only briefly passed in the night back in Arizona in April. However it was a very important night for my life plans back in April".

Harm raised a weary hand to his forehead. This woman was telling him that one of his great unachieved life plans was suddenly coming to fruition, yet apparently denying him the chance to participate. It was also clear that she had read Mac like a book during their brief time working together back in April.

"Terri, would you allow me to help, assist, participate, at least get to know our child? And once more, the Major is *not* ' _my Mac_ ' at all".

"Oh yes, I want 'The Bump' to know her Daddy; but my main point is that you do not *have* to do anything out of any feeling of obligation because I understand your strong sense of honour. Harm, I wanted to get that clearly out on the table and disposed of, over the phone, before we meet face to face. I wouldn't ever want to shock you or surprise you, my dear friend. I knew what I was doing that night and you were simply a convenient DNA donor to get me started on a healthy pregnancy. I would like to think that you enjoyed the transaction".

Terri's rock-steady self-confidence (which had, after all, led her to make a pass at Harm, not take his initial "no" for an answer and to entice him willingly into her bed) was shining through in the conversation. Harm smiled as he recalled that wonderful night in Arizona. It almost seemed that Terri had used him, got what she wanted out of him and then discarded him - surely that wasn't true? He felt his male ego deflating slightly at the thought of being "used and then cast aside, spent and unwanted".

"Yes I did - and I have often wondered whether to contact you, but I felt it better (and courteous) to leave it until you called me, so that there would be no risk of me appearing to stalk you".

She gasped: "Oh god Harm, you are such a gentleman. No, I would welcome your involvement absolutely - however it was important, to me, that you understood the opposite, because I would also completely understand if you had the opposite reaction. So, if this were to be the last time that we ever spoke (although I would not wish for that silent outcome, let me tell you) then I was prepared for your response." Harm had a sense that Terri Coulter was starting to babble like Lt Bud Roberts when he started over-thinking.

Harm was nodding. "Oh heavens no, please deal me in! I want to be involved as far and as deep and for as long as *you* will allow me to participate. OK, how can I best assist you and may I please come down to Tennessee soon to visit with you?"

"Actually, I may make it easier for you than a 12-hour drive! I'll be at a pathology conference on Friday and over the weekend at the Adams House; it was this timing which also prompted me to phone you. Would you be free this weekend? I'll be flying up during Thursday daytime and travelling home on Monday, setting off late morning from Dulles. I would absolutely love to see you again - and again after that for the rest of our lives assuming that the birth goes smoothly!".

Harm checked his calendar and offered up a prayer of thanks that a quiet weekend lay ahead.

"No Terri, I am absolutely clear this weekend. Oh, remember to bring warm clothing, because it is starting to cool down here in DC. Are you OK with flying when pregnant?"

"Yep, surely am; the advice (from my OB/GYN counterparts here at the hospital) is that we pregnant women are fine up until the 37th week (or week 32 with twins). Personally, I intend to stop flying at my 30th week (which would be Monday November 23rd), so there is no risk of harm to my - excuse me, our - baby at any stage on this September trip. Or again in October; or again in November (hint!). Oh god, Harm, I wish my Mom was still here; I really miss her so much and I know I'll really miss her when I am due at the end of January".

"Terri, I guarantee that your mom's spirit is sitting on your shoulder right through this wonderful journey. Please always remember that she will watch over you through this and beyond. I also suspect that, from this moment on, the spirit of Harmon Rabb senior will be standing at her shoulder to also watch over his only grandchild."

"Oh I will - you say the sweetest things, Harm. Look Harm, could we chat further about this away from work? The last gurney has just been wheeled in and I need to pick up my scalpel. Would you please entrust me with your home number and I shall phone you when I get into my apartment tonight?"

"Yes Terri of course and why don't I phone you so I'll pay for the call?; you know Terri, this really is great news".

"Yeah, I think so too Harm (or at least I did once the morning-sickness stopped); but let's chat tonight and work out a plan for the future".

"OK; I shall aim to call you around 19:00hrs. Err, Terri, may I ask a question please?".

"Sure Harm, ask away".

"Could I have a copy of the ultrasound please?"

As he finished that sentence, an electronic "ping" announced the arrival of an email.

"I was ahead of you, my dear Tomcat Lawyer! Look in your inbox Harm - and enjoy until we chat tonight".

"Hey, it is already on its way to the printer. Terri, thank you *so* much for involving me; I shall walk alongside you on this journey through your life".

"That would give me great pleasure and comfort. Bye Harm, call me tonight".

Terminating the call from Memphis, Harm walked out into the bull-pen, coffee in hand, in a mild state of shock. He realised that his hand, holding his coffee cup, was shaking as he sought out Mac's office. He had completely forgotten about the print job which he had dispatched to the laser printer.

His favourite Marine looked at him, eyebrow raised and with her eyes looking suspiciously moist. "Someone's going to be a Daddy, I presume?"

She was rewarded with the biggest, goofiest, happiest, widest flyboy trademark smile that Harm had ever bestowed upon her in their 21-month partnership.

"Yes Mac, and I may need your help and involvement and ideas for naming my little girl, Auntie Mac".

She frowned: "Well, I suspect that the mother of your child may have a different view/opinion of me but if she is OK with the idea then yes, of course, I would love to assist with naming your new baby". She sounded wistful, but Harm ignored her subtle vibes as he surfed the waves of his excitement at the news from Memphis. He suddenly came down to earth as a tear slipped down her cheek and he pulled out a clean white handkerchief which he offered her. She nodded gratefully and dabbed away the tear.

Shock at her discomfort began to cloud Harm's features, which he could not immediately trace the cause of as he continued to smile: "I'm going to be a daddy!"

Mac smiled and hugged him; "and you will be a *damn* fine father, Flyboy".

He suddenly remembered the printer and excused himself from Mac's presence. Heading out across the bull-pen, he realised that Harriet Sims and Carolyn Imes were among a group of people clustered around the printer and there was an excited chatter of voices; Harm realised that it would only be a matter of time before the Admiral began to take notice of the increasing noise and declining work output.

Carolyn held up the sheet of paper with the easily-recognisable image of an ultrasound-scanned foetus on it; at 21 weeks, the actual baby growing inside Terri Coulter would be around 10 inches long - the size of a large carrot.

"OK, who's printing out non-work-related material on my printer, or is this evidence in a paternity case?" laughed Carolyn, waving the page around in her outstretched arm. She did not expect the page to be plucked from her hand by the particular hand which descended from above her shoulder, to gently remove the sheet of paper which was grasped in her hand.

"Commander?" shrieked Carolyn and Harriett in unison. The proud, goofy gaze on his face caused Carolyn to stare, jaw agape, at Harm; Mr " _I don't do commitment_ " Flyboy Lawyer Harmon Rabb jr was going to be a Dad? He gently placed an affectionate finger under Carolyn's chin and gently raised her jaw until her surprised mouth was closed. She smiled and hugged him in affectionate embrace. "Way to go, Harm; she must be a very special woman to take you on".

Harm smiled: "Oh yes Carolyn - very special and she has a great way with bodies".

Typically, the Admiral was walking past at that very moment. He looked at the paper in Harm's hand and noted the embarrassed blush on the face of his senior attorney and the happy faces of Harriet and Carolyn - then his gaze focussed on the wistful expression on Mac's face as she stood in the doorway of her office.

"Something to share with the JAG family, Commander?"

"Not in great detail just yet Admiral - let's just say I am acknowledging part of the Circle of Life".

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase one.** **A follow-up is possible (and part-written), depending on reviews received within the first month after publication.**


	2. Fall reunion in DC : The Wall

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse.**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N.

 **A/N - Timing:** This AU story diverges from canon after the court hearings are closed in the Navajo Nation after the Jimmy Blackhorse case (S03Ep21). Subsequently, the lives of Harm and Teresa take a different path...

 **Summary: this is a fictional story, in a fictional (slightly) Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005. It involves a minor diversion from canon, at the tail end of episode S03Ep21, which first introduced us to the character of Lt Cdr Teresa Coulter, MD, USNR - one of the few female characters to openly make a "pass" at the Harmon Rabb character in ten years.**

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Phase Two of "Cigars, bones, babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - DC Fall reunion**

A/N March 2018; My grateful thanks to early reviewers of Phase One. Your comments and requests (and PMs) have encouraged me to write phase two. Phase three will follow. My thanks to Steamboat for very quick feedback on phase two.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Part three - "DC - Fall reunion"**

 **Thursday, 28th September 1998 - 18:44hrs EST**

 **Reception, Adams House Hotel, Washington DC**

Harm handed the keys to his Lexus to the parking valet, collected his ticket and walked (ever so slightly nervously) into the hotel foyer, looking out for Terri Coulter. She had simply said " _meet you in Reception_ " when they had spoken earlier in the day before she boarded her first flight from Memphis for the journey up to DC. Recalling their last meeting five months earlier, he realised sheepishly that he had also arrived one minute early for *that* original encounter at the trading post bar.

"Harm, on your starboard".

Walking further into the lobby, in the direction of the Reception desk, he suddenly heard his name being called, from his right. Looking round, he saw his favourite pathologist rising slowly from a wing-back chair in the corner, waving to him as she rose. She stood in front of the chair, her arms held wide in welcome.

Harm's jaw dropped slightly, despite him promising himself not to react when he saw her for the first time in five months since that amazing and unexpected night in Arizona. He had noticed as she waved that her hands were now completely bare, hinting at some minor fluid retention or swelling (she had always worn a ring when they were working together back in the Navajo Nation on the case of Jimmy Blackhorse, back in April). She stood up as he moved eagerly towards her, closing the distance between them as he strode to meet her, his hand extended in greeting as they finally touched.

Dr Teresa Coulter MD USNR stood tall, proud and beautiful - and visibly pregnant as her blazer had fallen away as she stood up. Her light grey turtle-neck sweater was stretched at the front and her charcoal below-the-knee skirt was perfectly matched to the sweater as they covered (and enhanced) her pregnancy bump. Her navy-blue blazer completed the outfit, along with plain low-heeled black shoes.

Terri Coulter, standing before him, embodied several of Harmon Rabb's life-long goals - and a couple of well-hidden fantasies! He noticed as he took her hands in greeting that her fingernails showed their customary perfect manicure, with just a clear lacquer. Her hair, freed from any restraint, cascaded over her shoulders in a blonde mane - longer than he remembered seeing in April. Looking at her, Harm realised the truth in the statement that pregnant ladies do really "glow" once the morning-sickness phase is behind them. A thin gold chain hung around her neck, over the turtleneck, dangling a small cross over the middle of her chest.

He stopped in front of her and they embraced; his greater height enabled him to "lower altitude" and lean in to kiss her without any risk of abdominal contact. She smelt wonderful - a soft floral scent which, he realised, he had noticed the previous day when he had been in close proximity to, of all people, Harriet Sims. This must be a popular fragrance for ladies this 1998 season!

Harm had given a lot of thought to his opening words - indeed, the litter bin in his office contained a half-dozen sheets, from his legal pad, containing random jottings - followed by formal structures - as he had gathered, coordinated and formed his thoughts into what he wanted to say when he first met the mother of the next generation of Rabb children. " _Don't get tongue-tied now, Mr Lawyer Man_ " he admonished himself silently.

"Terri, thank you for making time for me and coming up from Memphis a day earlier. I am so glad that you called me on Monday, because the chances are that I would never have known about your pregnancy otherwise - and that would have been a permanent source of regret for me. So thank you for involving me with our child and bringing me into your confidence".

"Well Harm, there is some method in my madness as well, but I'll take you through those when we have eaten. I suggest that we eat upstairs - in my suite - because I need to get these shoes off and rest my feet. The flying didn't help today, even on the two fairly short flights and with getting my legs up during the layover in Charlotte on the way across from Memphis". She playfully punched him on the bicep: "Damn, it *is* good to see you again, Harm".

He was marshalling his jumbled thoughts, but even so he realised that Mr Mighty Lawyer Man was going to be somewhat tongue-tied as he stood before this vision of blonde motherhood who was smiling up into his eyes. He had forgotten that Terri Coulter was quite a tall girl - not quite the 5ft 11in of his former partner Meg Austin, but she certainly stood half-a-head above Mac. Was it something about tall women from states that began with a "T" that attracted him, he wondered?

"Then, madam, your suite will be our chosen venue and it would be my honour to give you a foot-rub after we have eaten. So lay on MacDuff".

Terri rolled her eyes in mock despair at his cod-Shakespeare quote, then guided him to the elevators.

Neither of them noticed the happy smirk on the face of Dr Donald "Ducky" Mallard, who was sitting in the bar and making steady inroads into the crumbling resistance of a 44-year-old divorced ME from Kansas as they finalised some details of the elective timetable for the pathology conference which would start in the morning. Ducky recalled his conversation with Terri Coulter on a previous occasion; it warmed his heart to see the blonde pathologist clearly enjoying the company of the tall man who gave every indication of being quite familiar with her - and her side-profile gave a clear sign that her days of self-imposed celibacy had passed. "Ducky" turned away with a satisfied smile at Terri's new-found happiness.

"Ducky" had, for once, struck gold with his standard chat-up line that " _sex is an affirmation of life_ " and his audience of one seemed to be impressed - she was laughing at Ducky's jokes with her eyes as well as the warm tones of her voice and he took confidence from her relaxed posture as she leaned forward on her bar-stool. He had high hopes for a satisfactory - and satisfying - outcome and conclusion to the latter part of the evening's "planning session"!

"My dear, how does dinner for two in my suite sound?"

 **Thursday, 28th September 1998 - 19:05hrs EST**

 **Suite 4300, Adams House Hotel, Washington DC**

"Harm, would you like something alcoholic from the bar? We could add it when we order from room service" asked Terri, hanging her blazer on the chair by the office desk, slipping off her shoes and settling onto the bed with a sigh. She popped the side zip on her skirt as she relaxed onto a pile of pillows, looking down the length of the bed and reminding Harm of a golden-era cinema goddess, playing the part of Cleopatra or some such regal character from history.

Harm picked up the room service menu and a jotting pad, then struck a pose like a waiter: "I'd like a beer with the main order (just the one, because I owe you a clear head); let us also get some mineral water and a couple of glasses. Now, what would Madam care to enjoy for her evening repast?"

They quickly selected fruit cocktail as their starters, followed by a mushroom risotto for Harm and a sirloin steak with baked potato for Terri (" _Hey, I am eating for two and my little girl is going to be an omnivore_ " she chuckled at Harm's raised eyebrows). Side salads and a large slice of lemon meringue pie (with two spoons) completed the order with the previously-preferred beer and a large bottle of mineral water, accompanied by a large glass of fresh orange juice to maintain Terri's vitamin intake. With the list of requests completed, Harm telephoned the order through to Room Service and then he turned to look at her.

"OK Terri, would you like a quick foot massage now with a longer session after the meal, or would you like to hold yourself in anticipation of my touch until we have eaten?"

"Ooh, you nasty Tomcat Lawyer man; you know how to give a pregnant girl stress with such a choice of goodies! Could I be greedy and go for now as well as later please?" She nodded at the floor: "Even these shoes, which are my most comfortable pair, have rubbed slightly today - I guess it is the flying, with the changes of altitude and the different air pressure".

Harm resisted the temptation to discuss fluid retention or weight gain - he wanted this evening to go well and he definitely was not on a suicide mission to annoy the mother of his child! He bit his tongue and came up with a positive, friendly reply.

"No problems - stay there on the bed and I'll pull this chair across. Darn, I wonder if there is any massage oil in the hotel shop - would you be prepared to wait while I go and get the oil, sweetheart please?"

Terri nodded, pulling a fake "annoyed" face at him: "Always a delay to your promises, Lawyer Man!" she laughed. "Off you go, my feet can wait a little longer for your touch".

He smiled, picked up the room key and set off from the suite, in search of the hotel shop.

A quick fifteen-minute excursion down to the lobby resulted in the purchase of a small bottle of rose-scented massage oil, perfect for Harm's purpose, from the 24-hour drug-store across the street. His return to the suite coincided perfectly with the arrival of a room service trolley from the opposite direction, as the waiter arrived from the service elevator. Terri's preliminary foot-rub would have to wait!

Harm held the door open for the waiter, signed the chit and tipped the waiter in cash. Closing the door behind the departing waiter, he set about serving the starter dishes as Terri struggled to sit up on the bed. He looked across at her. "Don't take this the wrong way, but would you like me to feed you?"

She smiled - a full 100-watt sun-rivalling scorcher, which warmed his heart. "Thanks, but no thanks Harm; I can see that idea becoming seriously messy and I plan to wear this outer sweater when I fly home because it is comfortable to keep 'the bump' warm! I've had to limit my luggage so that I can comfortably carry everything. Also, I will need to sit up for the steak anyway because it will be so juicy; let's move across to the dining table - I knew there was a reason why I booked this larger suite when I made the hotel reservations last month". She slid her stocking-clad feet down to the floor, slipped on a pair of complimentary hotel slippers and then padded across to the table in the living area of her suite. Picking up the oversized napkin, she tucked it into the neck of her sweater before starting to eat.

They ate together in a companionable flow of conversation, washing down the excellent food with fruit juice and mineral water (Terri) and the beer (Harm). Catching up on news and cases, their conversations flowed easily - as though there had been no five-month gaps in their communications.

Harm realised something that Diane had told him years ago, as they parted to head off to Crypto and to Flight School: " _Between friends, a conversation just picks up again wherever you left off, be that a gap of minutes, months or years_ ". He offered up a quiet prayer of gratitude for Diane's time on this earth, then concentrated once more on listening to Terri's voice. He realised that he was in love with the lines of her neck, the gentle laughter lines around her mouth and the clear white of her eyes. And that was before his eyes fell lower to admire her womanly curves. He mentally kicked himself once again: how could he have spurned her offer in that laboratory five months ago, when this woman offered herself to him on a plate? " _Harmon Rabb, you must be losing your touch! Thank heavens that Terri was persistent and determined in what she wanted_ ".

The meringue offered little resistance to the pair of spoons and Terri was, all too soon, heading back to the bed for the promised (and much-anticipated) Harmon Rabb extra-special foot massages.

Terri had rolled down her support stockings (an essential tool in the armoury of any pregnant woman) and lay down flat, legs apart, ready for Harm's ministrations.

She was not disappointed; with 15 minutes spent on each foot (and the calf muscles which, he deduced, would also be tense), Harm methodically teased out every kink and knot, leaving Terri moaning gently with relief and pleasure. At one point, he wasn't certain that she wasn't actually purring again!

As he worked on her, Terri talked him through a couple of items which had been worrying her and on which she wanted his opinion. She wanted to make sure that he was clear on each one, as she ran through a list in a small black medical notebook, pen poised for his answers.

"OK Harm: do you want to be listed on the birth certificate as Teresa Junior's father?"

"Oh heck yes please Terri. Given my luck at love, you could very well be carrying the one and only Rabb heir (or heiress to be more accurate), but what was that about calling her Teresa Junior?"

"Good; I had hoped that you would want to be involved; I'm going to touch on names in a moment. Next, how deeply involved do you *really* want to be - given that I really do need *nothing* from you?" She placed a hand on the wrist of his free hand and looked into his eyes: "I really mean that - you are under no obligation and that is the last time I shall say _that_ "; the final word came as a squeal - she gasped as he hit another tense spot on the underside of her left foot and she then dropped her notebook and relaxed back onto the pillow, groaning in pleasure, with her arms spread and grabbing up chunks of the bedcover.

Harm paused; this was about the fourth time that Terri had told him that she wanted nothing from him. She had also ignored his question regarding the naming of "Teresa Junior", although he had noticed her promise to return to the matter.

Whilst his aviator ego was slightly offended at being declared unnecessary, he understood Terri's rationale. She was a single woman, independent and self-reliant, who had used him as a sperm donor five months ago and expected (assumed, more like it, he grunted to himself) that he might not want to be involved in " _bringing up baby_ ". Harm's initial response to this notion had been " _in your dreams_ " when he had thought through the scenarios post-partum. He wanted *in* - without any shadow of a doubt.

"Hey Terri, let me at least top up a college fund for 'Teresa Junior' to start her studies; and if, for instance, you take a six-month mat leave, will you be OK financially? In short, I want to be as heavily involved with 'Teresa Junior' as you will allow me".

"Well, I am pretty certain that I will be OK financially, but let's continue that dialogue. I'm certainly going to need assistance in practical terms, because I shall need certain things done around my home when I'm getting close to the end - I have another four months of swelling to go beyond this!" She smiled, patting her bump. "Perhaps you could contribute to fitting out and painting the nursery around Christmas time, when I should have a month to go with "little Coulter" in here and I'll be less mobile than I would like".

She paused, her face clouded with a concern. "Would that decorating task appeal to you and would it be possible time-wise Harm, because I recall you telling me that Christmas Eve at The Wall was a key date in your calendar every year?"

"Terri, that kind of involvement, in your home over Christmas, would be perfect. Or maybe around Thanksgiving so that we have two months of contingency (in case Teresa Junior puts in an appearance earlier than expected). Just let me know when I need to come down; I sometimes go out to California for New Year with my mom and Frank, but can easily swap that to a January trip. I'll book a long weekend vacation from JAG before Christmas and, if I can get hold of Jack Keeter, we could work a double-act on setting up your nursery. I am good with practical things - I've just realised I never told you I restored my father's vintage bi-plane, so putting up a crib will be a simple task for me. Consider it done - whatever you need - because you and Teresa Junior are now my priority. Next?"

"Well, don't go out to California on a date too far into January - I may need to be digging my fingernails into your hands in the delivery ward so that we share the childbirth pain" she smiled, examining her "talons" as she waved her hands at him. He gulped and resumed work on her feet. Thinking back to her beautifully-manicured fingernails, Harm wondered about getting her "clipped". No, that might simply store up a whole new pile of pain for him; but at least Terri had warned him about what was coming - Mother's Day, nine months after Father's Night! He made a mental note to buy a strong set of gauntlets to protect his hands!

Her questions and clarifications continued for a while, counterbalanced by several questions which Harm tossed over to her as he thought through various additional scenarios - including the serious but necessary discussion about a will - considerations such as " _What happens if you die before our child reaches 18 years of age?_ " (they discussed this and considered involving Harm's Mom and seeking out Carolyn Imes as a potential supervisory guardian; she was another JAG lawyer who was single but had expressed an interest in children's' affairs as her chosen career route if she ever left the Navy). Harm and Terri instinctively adopted the aviator rule of planning: " _plan for the worst, hope for the best_ ".

"OK Terri, I'll ask Carolyn Imes when I see her in the office - which should be tomorrow, or Monday if she is away on an assignment".

"Thanks Harm: I don't know her but I guess that you have good women in your harem of admiration".

"Oh envious much!" he smiled as he continued the foot-massage.

Finally after washing the oil from his hands, he drew a spare blanket over her from the bench seat at the foot of the bed and pulled his chair close to the side of the bed. The massage had relaxed her and she moaned softly as she relaxed under the blanket, still partially clothed apart from her bare legs. She had shed her skirt early during the foot massage. Her eyelids were beginning to droop, but she picked up her notebook and pen once more.

She leaned across and took his hands in hers once more; clearly there was an important question coming.

He looked into her eyes: "Yes, Terri? I presume this is important?"

"Yes, Harm; It is very important. I want you to participate in choosing a name for Coulter Junior".

"OK - you, as the mother, have the hard work so I presume I will be consulted but you will make the final determination?"

"Yes, you've got that right. But I have four months to go and I want us to have a true discussion and consultation on naming her in the meantime. I would like to include 'Ellen' for obvious reasons, but probably not more than four Christian names in total (so she won't stand out if she gets into Wellesley for example)." She took back one hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of her eye.

Harm took Terri's hands and thought for a moment. "Thank you for the honour of helping with the naming of your/our daughter. How about Patricia (for my mother) or Sarah for my Grams?"

She considered the recommendation for a moment, then smiled at him. "Err, I have absolutely no problem with Patricia (which shortens to Trish or Trisha which I like) but I am sorry, Sarah reminds me of someone else in your orbit!"

Harm back-pedalled instantly. "No problem, Patricia would make me proud - damn' proud, Terri! Thank you. What about Caitlin?"

Terri smiled: "Another ghost, Harm? No, don't tell me - actually, I like it and it would compliment my great-aunt Katherine, so yes and I am surprised that you haven't offered Diane".

"Actually, that would be a little too close to home for me". He paused, then his face lit up with another idea: "Hey, how about *DianA* as in Diana the Huntress?"

"Oh yes Harm; I think that we have decided on a lovely set of names - this parenting gig is fun, isn't it?" She laughed happily as she lay back on the bed, holding his hand.

Harm was relaxed by her acceptance of the names. He was glad that Terri hadn't probed him regarding the provenance of "Caitlin" and he intended to let sleeping Pikes lie. He reached across to the lighting controls for the room and dimmed the overhead lights. As he looked around to locate his jacket in his preparations to leave her in peace, she looked at him, reached out and placed a hand on his wrist, smiled and uttered a one-word invitation:

"Stay?"

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Friday, 29th September 1998 - 06:48hrs EST**

 **Suite 4300, Adams House Hotel, Washington DC**

The bleeping of the alarm clock stirred him into wakefulness. Reaching out, he fumbled the unfamiliar clock until he hit a seemingly-random button which brought silence. He relaxed back into the bed as consciousness returned.

Harm awoke slowly, adjusting to the sensation of another warm body in the bed, for the first time since that wonderful night in April when he had been bounced around the skies by a lady ME who definitely knew how the human body worked. He looked down; Terri lay on her side facing him with her head laying on his outstretched arm, her golden hair falling across her face and with her pregnancy bump resting on his hip. Her sweater had ridden up over her bump during the night, as had the t-shirt beneath it, leaving him with the wonderful sensation of skin-on-skin. Her leg was nestling between his legs and he was reminded of the morning, five months ago, when they had last woken up together - the morning after the night of the conception.

Suddenly he felt something pushing into him; astonished, he turned on the bedside lamp and looked down to see the alien-like ripples running up and down the skin of Terri's gently-swelling belly. _His baby was awake and she was moving inside her mother_!

Harm watched, fascinated, for a good five minutes before he realised that time was marching on; both he and Terri had a busy day of work ahead of them.

"Terri - Teresa sweetheart - it's Friday morning, time for me to head out".

One eye opened, staring balefully at him through the blonde fringe of hair and squinted at the light shining into her face, followed by a warm smile, which suddenly faded as she let out a small squeak: "Sorry Harm, head call takes priority; junior is starting to play soccer with my bladder". He marvelled that she said it so matter-of-factly. This lovely capable woman, equally at home dissecting a corpse or analysing evidence or entertaining him, was now expanding her repertoire to include impending motherhood, barely missing a beat as she switched and multi-tasked between the roles. Oh, how could he have been so dumb as to reject her advances that first day in the lab? And could he get back into her good graces and really make amends by earning the right to build a home for the upcoming mini-Coulter-Rabb family member?

Terri rolled away from him, carefully locating the edge of the huge bed with her outstretched arm, then she slid her feet to the floor into the complimentary hotel slippers, stood upright and headed towards the bathroom, fumbling a dressing gown around her partially-clad body.

Harm set about starting a small pot of coffee in the kitchen area of the suite. He reasoned that she could share her one permitted coffee of the morning with him, before he did the "walk of shame" out of her suite and back, in his car, to his apartment to change into his uniform before heading in to JAG HQ at Falls Church.

"Harm, the conference today starts at 09:30hrs with Registration, then the sessions run up until 18:30 when there is a small drinks reception before some delegates will be heading out for a meal in town. I reckon that I shall be wiped out by then and will need no excuse to retire (at least everyone can see that I'm pregnant), so you are welcome to repeat last night (and especially that orgasmic foot massage) and even come and collect me from the drinks reception. I recall that the Saturday morning conference sessions will start at 09:30 and I think that Sunday is a half-day from 09:00hrs, wrapping up with a lunch at 12:30."

"Roger, wilco - you have me all weekend at your disposal, as previously agreed. When I arrive, I'll call up from Reception tonight at - what - 19:00hrs?

"Actually Harm, let's keep the same arrangement as last night - I'll be in down in the lobby (where you will see the drinks reception from the conference) from 18:45hrs to greet you and we can go from there".

"Terri, that sounds like a great deal; OK, I'll see you later. Let me know if you need me to bring anything in with me".

They kissed, gently and sweetly, before Harm grabbed his coat and headed out, to find the valet and retrieve his Lexus. Somehow, he sensed a strong feeling of contentment which he hadn't felt since Diane's final weekend with him, some three years earlier. He sighed, contentedly, then set course for his apartment.

 **Friday, 29th September 1998 - 08:51hrs EST**

 **JAG HQ, Falls Church, VA**

LtCdr Harmon Rabb was chatting with Admiral Chegwidden as they waited for the coffee to brew, ahead of the Friday morning Staff Call which would take place in the conference room. Major Sarah Mackenzie was also standing in the small kitchen area, awaiting her first Marine-grade coffee of the day. The sense of "deja-vu" from Monday was overwhelming.

"So Commander, how goes the planning for impending fatherhood?". The Admiral was keen to assess whether this sudden distraction was going to deflect his star attorney from the highly-efficient manner in which Harm routinely delivered his cases and supported the junior staff.

"Well, we really only scratched the surface of our planning over dinner last night, then Terri fell asleep after the flights and preparation for the conference sessions; so we'll continue tonight and, I reckon, on Saturday evening as well and through until her flight home to Memphis on Monday afternoon".

"Hmm - Tennessee is a long drive - I presume that the two of you will be looking at domestic practicalities sometime?" The admiral was well aware of the dislocation caused by having a family far away, based upon his experience of having a daughter resident in Italy.

Harm shook his head. "No sir, Terri is settled in Memphis and her career is there, along with excellent OB/GYN services at her hospital in Memphis. So she'll be staying put, at least until Ellen is weaned and she is back in MPD from mat leave".

"Ellen is a lovely name" observed Carolyn Imes from the doorway - she was at the head of a growing queue of caffeine-dependent attorneys awaiting their turn in the galley.

Harm smiled: "Yes, she is being named for Terri's late mother, who was sadly murdered by her husband - Terri's father - back in '89. So far we are looking at Ellen Patricia Diana Caitlin Coulter. We cannot see any unfortunate acronyms from those names; plus it allows her, as she grows, to be shortened to Ellie, Pat, Trish, Trisha, Di and Cate (with a soft 'c' or a kicking 'k'), so her chosen nickname options are wide open for the future".

Mac recalled that Harm had finally opened up and spoken to her about the tragedy of Diane only about a month before they headed off to Arizona for the Blackhorse case back in April. Maybe "Flyboy" had been thinking, more deeply and in private, about fatherhood in the aftermath of the Holbarth discovery and the dockside confrontation following the discovery of Diane's letters.

She still remembered "that kiss", with him tugging her lips as their mouths twisted around. She hoped that Harm had finally laid his ghost - seeing the Navy photograph of Diane had shaken her to realise that she looked so similar to Harm's lost love (and had helped her to understand his ' _seen a ghost_ ' expression in the White House Rose Garden on their first meeting).

Unbidden, Mac's pulse stirred at the memory of *that* kiss on the dockside. Had she misread the situation whilst she was still recovering from Dalton's murder? Had Harm known which "Diane clone" he was kissing on the dockside? Given what had obviously transpired a mere one month later with Terri in Arizona, had Mac mis-read Harm's ticking biological clock and the desire of this lovely tall aviator-turned-lawyer to pass on his gene-pool? Darn it, too late now!

Mac suddenly realised that Harm and Diane must have discussed starting a family years ago, after the ramp strike back in 1991, during their time healing at Grams' farm. Had he not thought of family matters in the intervening seven years? In truth, on the night of the "Holbarth incident", he *had* revealed that he and Diane had "missed more than we connected". Working out the years, Mac realised that Harm could be suffering from a "seven year itch" cycling from 1991. Damn, why hadn't she thought of that before? Quietly, in her own way, Mac had considered Harm as a potential father for her children but now, with the Terri situation, that was looking increasingly untenable as a route to motherhood for Mac.

"So I presume there is currently no likelihood of Mommy Coulter relocating herself to DC?" Mac piped up, sipping her coffee and examining Harm's expression over the rim of her cup.

Harm smiled: "Realistically Mac, I may be eager to support her and make some suggestions about changing her life - and I am working on that - but I am not suicidal! From my reading on OB/GYN issues this week (and also thinking back to a brief chat that Diane and I had up at Bellville years back, when I was healing from my ramp strike and we were thinking about the future), once a pregnant woman finds a good OB/GYN facility which she is comfortable with, she sticks with them come hell or high water. As to what happens after the birth, when Terri returns to work as the foremost forensic pathologist in the state of Tennessee, who knows? Realistically, that could be up to a year from now with current mat leave rules, and a lot can change." He stepped back to allow Mac and Carolyn to reach the coffee pot.

"And what about your future location, Harm? What have you and the mother discussed so far?" The Admiral's use of Harm's first name, rather than "Commander", clearly indicated his intention of keeping this personal and "off the record". The Admiral had always taken a paternalistic interest in the life of his top attorney (and had noted the growing closeness and excellent working arrangements between Harm and Mac, although noting that they always observed the fraternisation rules scrupulously).

"Oh, unfortunately Terri and I only recently reconnected Admiral. To my considerable embarrassment, back in April it was a one-night stand which was how long she needed my body (God, that doesn't sound right!) and I didn't know about the pregnancy until Monday, so I am still getting my head around the idea of impending fatherhood after not much more than four whole days. What comes later in our discussions is something that I - well, I guess I mean *we* - need to give serious thought to; which is why Terri and I will be meeting up often across this weekend whilst she is in DC".

Mac noted his referral to "Terri", as opposed to "Lt Cdr Teresa Coulter". She looked at Harm with renewed interest; if some blonde ME could consider him as suitable breeding stock, who else might have their sights set upon him? Mac realised, with a shrug, that she had no clue at all about who else might be in Harm's "harem of admiration" (although Allison Krennick seemed to have been over-eager to get into Harm's trousers on several historic occasions). She thought back to her dates with Dalton; she was glad to have had someone special in her life at the start of 1998, despite subsequently dumping him before the tragedy of his murder. Boy, she and Harm were surely having an eventful pair of love lives in 1998!

"Well keep me apprised; I may be able to help" instructed the Admiral as he placed his used coffee cup into the sink and headed back towards his office, where Petty Officer (first class) Jason Tiner was standing with a case file in his hand.

Standing with Harm in the galley, Mac drained her coffee cup, moved close and placed a friendly hand on Harm's wrist. "Harm, however this situation with Terri works out, remember that we are here for you and you have friends to talk with". She patted his forearm and headed across to Staff Call. Carolyn also murmured her support as she emptied her coffee mug: "you'll be a great father, Harm".

"Thanks Carolyn; Terri and I would also have a favour to ask you. We would like to involve you as a backup guardian for Ellen in case something bad were to happen to both of us - would that role appeal to you or fill you with fear?"

Carolyn thought for barely a nanosecond before throwing her arms around Harm and whispering in his ear: "Oh yes Harm, I would be honoured. Just draw up the paperwork and I'll give you my details as needed. I'm considering moving into family law and children's advocacy when I leave the Navy once I've got my twenty in". She kissed him softly on the cheek and walked off back to her office to grab her papers for the Staff Call.

Both of the female JAG lawyers knew that Harm, with his strong sense of honour, would bend over backwards to " _do the right thing_ " by the mother of his child, now that he knew that fatherhood lay ahead of him.

Harm watched Mac's retreating six and shook his head to clear his thoughts; why did he have to be given a partner who looked so much like his lost love? And now, unawares, he had fathered a child with a woman who had, frankly, merely seen him as a convenient sperm donor. Even though he had no regrets whatsoever about having been used by Terri in that way, it might have been courteous to consult him before starting the next (and potentially the only) member of the next generation of the Rabb family line. Was something wrong with him? What was it about women in his life? Why could he not combine all the ideal facets of his perfect woman into one warm body and be happy?

Suddenly chuckling to himself, he looked up at the galley ceiling.

"Diane, if this is some warped joke, it's not working!"

He offered up a quick prayer, asking Diane's spirit to look in on Terri and to ensure that the unborn foetus was protected and loved.

He thought about ordering flowers for Terri, then discarded the idea because she would be flying back to Memphis in a little over 48 hours' time. He could always get them delivered to her lab (maybe!) or her apartment (far more sensible) during the coming week. Wow: flowers, women, babies - how quickly a man's life and priorities could change! He shook his head once more and headed to his office to grab the case files ready for Staff Call, determined to salvage his sanity by working on the pile of cases which awaited him there - cases which depended upon the structure and logic of naval law. Learning about this woman from Tennessee was going to take far longer - perhaps, he mused, the rest of his life.

 **Friday, 29th September 1998 - 18:40hrs EST**

 **Suite 4300, Adams House Hotel, Washington DC**

The day had passed quickly and, all too soon, Harm found himself walking up towards the door of Terri's suite in eager anticipation of renewing the discussions with his "Tennessee Bombshell". He didn't consider that term to be at all derogatory; rather he regarded it as a compliment to her, because she had turned him upside down and shaken him, hard, five months ago and - once more - last night. He was beginning to realise how she fitted the description of a determined naval officer - almost a case of " _full ahead and damn the torpedoes_ ".

He realised that he was, actively, looking forward to seeing Dr Teresa Ellen Coulter again. She had texted him to let him know that she had left the drinks reception early (she had been bored witless, apparently) and then headed up to her suite to rest. Harm realised that he definitely *did* want more. Acting as a mere remote father figure, only occasionally appearing in his daughter's life, would not be a sufficiently-good compromise for him. Even if he had to grovel, Harm was going to do more to stay involved in the life of this wonderful woman and her growing baby - his daughter. He smiled as he realised that Ellen was, in fact, *their* daughter - something that they had both been involved in creating.

His mind was made up - he was going to play as full a part in his daughter's life as Terri Coulter would allow. He would never invade her privacy uninvited nor would he over-reach in making himself available, but he *would* become the best father that he was allowed to be.

He also suddenly realised that, with a forecast birth in January 1999, he could expect his/their daughter to be entering Annapolis in the summer of 2017 as an 18-year-old middy. Ensign Ellen Coulter-Rabb had a nice ring to it - as, he realised, did Ensign Ellen Rabb-Coulter. A stable family background was always welcomed by the Admissions tutors at Annapolis. A further thought then struck him: Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb, MD, USNR was quite a nice name as well! Or Dr Teresa Rabb-Coulter.

Now, to "guide" the mother into accepting his plan! A succession of gentle "nudges" would be best, he decided - given her experience of her parents' strife-torn family home and her failed marriage to Rory, Harm realised that the matter *had* to be decided by Terri, in her own way and at her own pace and especially on her own terms. She had only just started to let him in (after keeping him in total ignorance for five months since the conception), so he had to earn the right to participate further. Then he had to overcome her catastrophic experiences of past marriages - both hers and that of her parents.

Harm realised that he would have to swallow his pride and fit in with Terri's needs and methods; the prize was just too important and precious for him to screw it up with some thoughtless act of omission or commission. He knew that the pregnancy was already draining her energy levels - Terri had left a message earlier whilst he was in court, expressing fatigue and asking him to plan to come straight up to her suite. Her subsequent text had confirmed her whereabouts after she had abandoned the drinks party.

Harm knocked on the door of Terri's suite, then stood back so that she could check the identity of her visitor. He noticed the quick flash of light in the Judas hole as she looked out to verify his presence and identity, then the door was opened and Terri stood before him in all her pregnant glory. He realised that he could get very used to this view - then also realised that she was inviting him into her life temporarily (at first) because she needed to get her affairs in order before her confinement.

He resolved that he *had* to gain and develop better access to her life - on her terms, of course and in accordance with "her rules" - *if* he wanted more beyond this current weekend of listening to Terri laying out her ground rules.

A pleasant meal followed - the room service meal was once again excellent and the use of the suite allowed Terri to stand up and walk around as her body stiffened or her baby started kicking - she was now at the stage in her pregnancy where spontaneous movements of the foetus became normal. This was reflected in her eating slowly and steadily, ensuring that her stomach was not upset by the exercise regime of "Coulter Junior". Once again, Terri relaxed after the meal and Harm delivered another devastatingly-satisfying foot-rub. The sound of a purring Terri Coulter was quickly moving up his list of "all-time top favourite sounds".

They settled onto the couch and watched a film on the cable service provided by the hotel. Harm felt that this vignette of domestic tranquillity was something that had eluded him during all his months working alongside Mac. Meg Austin could have been a good candidate, had she not been suddenly plucked away during the fiasco of his arrest for poor Diane's murder. Caitlin Pike had been an enthusiastic (and vocal) participant in a weekend's run ashore but they had realised, mutually, by the Sunday afternoon that the sweaty, energetic, inventive and noisy encounter would just be a one-off. Obviously, with hindsight, Meghan O'Hara was probably just using him for access to the Princess, but he had observed that even she had looked lovingly at him on several occasions - including that final moment when the light faded from her eyes as she lost the battle to survive the three deadly rounds fired into her by the agent who was protecting Princess Alex.

No, this was a good feeling, with a good woman, who had made him feel incredibly wanted and loved on that one night five months ago. Harm now had to earn the right to be invited back for more. He was determined to earn her trust - the next generation of the Rabb lineage depended on him. Just because Terri had no living family (with whom she wanted to stay in touch) did not mean that he, Harm, could not bring her into the loving fold of the Rabb family - Trish and Frank would welcome her in a heartbeat as their new daughter-in-law.

It was no surprise to Harm when, around 22:10hrs at the end of the film, Terri stirred, looked at him, took his hand gently and led him to her bed for a second successive night. She opened the discussion with a simple question. "Harm, I was reading up in 'Cosmo' on the plane about comfortable positions for women during pregnancy and I wonder if you would mind helping me try them out? By the way, I assume we have both been celibate since we last got it on?"

Harm nodded in response to her question, then he took a moment to look at the magazine's front page and the articles listed: he suddenly realised just exactly *what* type of "positions" Terri was talking about! Blushing furiously, he rapidly set about removing his excess clothing and assisting Terri as she disrobed with a similar eagerness and speed. Terri picked up the copy of "Cosmopolitan" and opened the magazine at a page marked by an airline boarding pass.

She looked at him. "Right Harm, if I place myself like this, I need you to..."

 **Friday, 29th September 1998 - 23:40hrs EST**

 **Suite 4300, Adams House Hotel, Washington DC**

Exhausted, sweaty and satisfied, Harm realised that these nights with Terri were setting him up for the best nights of sleep in years. He *had* to make sure that he didn't inadvertently screw this up. As he relaxed, he realised that he was also enjoying the best sex that he had experienced in years. He definitely wanted more - in every sense of the work.

He moved slightly, feeling Terri tighten the grip of her thighs around his leg; she was not letting him loose any time soon. She rolled slightly, resting her pregnancy bump on his side and smiled in her sleep. Harm extended an arm to hold her in place and she buried her head in the crook of his arm.

Barely above a murmur, he thought he heard her mutter " _I love you, Harm_ " as she resumed snoring.

Sleep claimed him quickly and he slept through the night, missing Terri's three trips to the bathroom as "the Bump" continued to torture her bladder.

 **Saturday, 30th September 1998 - 07:40hrs EST**

 **Suite 4300, Adams House Hotel, Washington DC**

Harm woke once more in the arms of his Tennessee Bombshell, struggling to extricate himself from her amorous embrace. She looked once more at him from under her fringe, then asked him once more to "hold the fort" as she made the morning dash to alleviate bladder pressure caused by her foetus. She returned, took his hand and gazed deep into his eyes.

She remained silent for some time; Harm began to worry. Eventually she spoke.

"Harm, I have formed a strong belief that you may not be like the other men who have passed through my life (and the very few who have passed through my bed) over the years. I want to explore this further and I am now certain that I want you in Coulter Junior's life. So don't do anything rash whilst I try to work everything out. OK, Tomcat Lawyer Man?"

"Sure thing Terri, I want to be here every evening whilst you are in DC and I shall call you every night after you head home to Memphis - if you would allow me?" She nodded and he continued. "We'll find a way. I am, however, proud to be the man who has started to restore your faith in men. Now, I'm heading for the shower; if you order breakfast whilst I am in the shower, I can be fed and gone quickly, without affecting your morning schedule for today's events at your conference. My vote would be for OJ and oatmeal please".

She nodded and he headed to the bathroom. Standing in the shower, he replayed Terri's morning comments; was she actually coming round to the idea of *not* specifically decrying the institution of marriage? Could he persuade her that the adage " _once bitten, twice shy_ " was not casting a shadow over the prospect of a successful second marriage for Teresa Coulter?

He began to form an idea for the upcoming evening.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Part four - "DC - the Wall"**

 **Saturday, 30th September 1998 - 18:32hrs EST**

 **Suite 4300, Adams House Hotel, Washington DC**

"Hi Harm, how was your Saturday?"

"Pretty good Terri, but less than perfect because you've been working on this convention and I have had to maintain a distance. I am up to date on laundry, housecleaning, the carwash and my grocery stocks - and I am *so* bored! Look, we hadn't discussed this, but may I borrow you for an hour this evening, take you outside to somewhere close by and then buy you a meal as a compensation for your time please?"

"Yes sure; what are you thinking?"

"I need to take you to somewhere close by; you'll be out in the fresh air so I hope you have a coat to protect your baby bump".

"Harm - it is *our* baby and (hopefully) will always be considered as such. My only reticence on the first five months was to be sure that you were very clear in understanding that I don't want or need anything from you, although I will always welcome my baby's father in whatever role he wants to be involved. I'm just not tying you down unless you want me to".

Harm smirked: "Terri, you're not wearing the right outfit to be tying me down - and you wouldn't fit the outfit that I have in mind for you, for at least the next four of five months! After that..." His trademark "flyboy" smile emerged, causing Terri to swat him gently on his arm.

"Idiot! OK, so where are you taking me and please tell me you have the Lexus rather than that cramped low-slung 'Vette that you talked about when we first met out in Arizona - even at five months, I do not believe that I would fit into that cockpit, so I am *not* going to expose little Ellen Patricia Diana Caitlin Coulter to the indignity of me trying. Oh, I reserve the right to go around the discussion on names again before the birth, Daddy".

Harm smiled at the use of his baby's names by her mother. The discussion yesterday had left him with a really warm feeling about how well this baby deal was going to pan out.

"Terri, might I please ask to keep our destination a secret for a while please? However you will need to wrap up warm; what clothes do you have for the cold of Washington in late September?"

"Already ahead of you, Mr Rabb". Terri headed towards the large wardrobe which took up most of one wall of her suite.

Terri slid a long cardboard box out from the wardrobe and produced a pair of long winter boots with low heels. She smiled: "I have never felt the cold before I became pregnant, but these last three weeks I have been suffering from cold calves. So I went shopping as soon as I reached DC". Bending down to pull on a pair of long socks over her support stocking, before sliding her boots on (she still had quite a flexible body, despite the five-month foetus growing within her, Harm noted) she then plucked a knee-length woollen cape, with fur collar, from the wardrobe. Buttoning up the cape, she stood before Harm, striking a "Wonder Woman" pose with her arms extended .

"Ok to fly, Mr Tomcat Lawyer Man?"

"Oh yes, you'll do nicely" replied Harm, once he regained the power of speech; every time that he saw another facet and more of the personality of this exciting, intelligent, loving woman, he rejoiced that the good Lord had seen fit to bring Dr Teresa Ellen Coulter into his life - both five months ago and now, again, following the revelation of her pregnancy. He resolved that, whatever it took, he would not be letting her go for as long as she would have him - ever!

They walked, hand in hand, from the elevator to the entrance lobby, where Harm gave his car ticket to the valet to retrieve the Lexus. As they stood there, a Town Car drew up and Terri smiled at the sight of "Ducky" Mallard escorting his latest conquest (the Kansas ME) in a gorgeous teal evening gown which made the most of her "assets".

Terri murmured an observation to Harm. "Well, Ducky Mallard over there has not only scored, but I can see that he will need an opthalmlogist later tonight".

Harm was puzzled, admiring the well-dressed middle-aged pair who were boarding the Town Car. "Go on Terri, that one went over my head".

Terri indicated with her head: "Ducky will need help getting his eyes out of the front of her dress - that corset does her a power of good and is clearly having the desired effect on Ducky!"

They laughed at the shared joke as the Town Car pulled away and, when Harm's Lexus arrived a moment later, Harm helped Terri into the passenger seat and offered her the seatbelt, before closing her door, walking around the Lexus, tipping the valet and then settling behind the wheel, ready to drive her to his intended destination.

Fifteen minutes later, Terri realised (from her limited knowledge of DC) where he was parking as he pulled up on Constitution Avenue, just east of the junction with 21st Street NW.

Harm walked around to Terri's side of the car and helped her out onto the sidewalk. Together, they walked arm-in-arm down the footpath which led south. After a while the long, low, dimly-lit black panels of the Vietnam Memorial stretched away into the distance. Harm guided Terri towards the particular panel which bore the inscribed name of Harmon Rabb Sr.

Whilst Harm usually felt a sense of sadness at this point in his walk along the Memorial, today he felt nothing but elation. He was walking to visit his father, alongside a lovely, vibrant, intelligent woman who had, five months earlier, expressed her attraction for him, taken him to bed and was now carrying his unborn child.

This time, this place and these people brought together three generations of Rabb family members - one lost in war, one living in peace and another who was as-yet-unborn. Harm felt an incredible sense of peace and fulfilment as he glanced once more at the lovely woman alongside him. Terri was taking in the view of the Memorial for the first time.

Terri, for her part, rejoiced in his closeness. Whilst she had felt slightly guilty about using his body for her selfish purposes five months earlier in Arizona, his joyful and positive response when she had told him the news on Monday (and his amazing involvement, eager participation and help since then) had validated her decision to involve him and disclose her condition. She *had* definitely chosen the right man to father her child. This could just work out extremely well for all three of them - Terri, Ham and "the Bump" (a.k.a. Ellen Patricia Diana Caitlin Coulter).

She leaned in closer to him and they stopped at the panel which he knew so well; Teresa scanned down the engraved names, looking for the one name which she knew would be there as Harm began to address the cold, black stone.

Taking off his glove, he placed a thumb on his father's name. "Hi Dad, I'm here three months early for Christmas, but there is a wonderful woman whom I want to introduce to you. Her name is Teresa Coulter MD and hey, she's carrying your granddaughter Ellen. I guess that you probably knew that already, but I want to say it out loud - I'm going to be a daddy and I am so proud of her!"

Alongside him, Terri marshalled her thoughts. Once Harm had finished, she stepped forward.

"Harm, would you mind giving me some private time with your Dad, please?"

Naturally, Harm nodded and stepped back. Placing her forehead on the black slab, she spoke very quietly and very lovingly to Harm's father. She then stood upright and stepped back, linked arms once more with Harm and they looked at the black slab for another minute.

"Harm, I had never visited here before from Tennessee, but I now realise that it is so peaceful. This memorial, and its establishment, must have helped to heal many broken lives from the Vietnam era since it opened in '82". Terri was surveying the long line of black slabs with their 58,000 names and, as her head rotated to sweep the other way (past where Harm had been standing) she realised that he wasn't there in her line of sight anymore. She looked down, to see him on one knee and looking up at her. She gasped in realisation and a hand flew to her mouth.

Ham was kneeling, holding a small red box in his hand. "Teresa Ellen Coulter, in this place and at this time, close to my father's marker and in the presence of his spirit, I offer you the Rabb family ring, which has been worn by several generations of Rabb women".

He paused. "Terri, I'm not sure of all the details yet, but I know that we shall work them out. My main point for now is to ask you a simple question".

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **END of "Cigars, bones, babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase two.**


	3. Memphis Belle

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse.**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole A/N.

 **A/N - Timing:** This AU story diverges from canon after the court hearings are closed in the Navajo Nation after the Jimmy Blackhorse case (S03Ep21). Subsequently, the lives of Harm and Teresa take a different path...

 **Summary: this is a fictional story, in a fictional (slightly) Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005. It involves a minor diversion from canon, at the tail end of episode S03Ep21, which introduced us to the character of Lt Cdr Teresa Coulter, MD, USNR. Circumstances and events in this AU story make the timeline of S04Ep17 "Nobody's Child" (March 1999) untenable in the canon timeline.**

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Phase Three of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Memphis Belle"**

A/N 31-03-2018; *Steamboat (which one?) - thanks for the suggested idea about how Harm might be queried over the choice of names for the baby. You need to log-in when you post your reviews, so that we authors may respond properly to you (4/6/18)

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Part five - "Memphis Belle"**

 **Saturday, 30th September 1998 - 19:11hrs EST**

 **Vietnam Memorial, Washington DC**

(...continued from Part four):

Fifteen minutes later, Terri realised (from her limited knowledge of DC) where he was parking as he pulled up on Constitution Avenue, just east of the junction with 21st Street NW.

Harm walked around to Terri's side of the car and helped her out onto the sidewalk. Together, they strolled arm-in-arm down the footpath which led south. After a while the long, low, dimly-lit black panels of the Vietnam Memorial stretched away into the distance. Harm guided Terri towards the particular panel which bore the inscribed name of Harmon Rabb Sr.

Whilst Harm usually felt a sense of sadness at this point in his walk along the Memorial, today he felt nothing but elation. He was walking alongside an intelligent, vibrant, lovely woman who had, five months before, expressed her attraction for him, taken him to bed and was now carrying his unborn child.

This time, this place and these people brought together three generations of Rabb family members - one lost in war, one living in peace and another who was as-yet-unborn. Harm felt an incredible sense of peace and fulfilment as he glanced once more at the lovely woman alongside him. Terri was taking in the view of the Vietnam Memorial for the first time.

Terri, for her part, rejoiced in his closeness. Whilst she had felt slightly guilty about using his body for her selfish purposes five months earlier in Arizona, his joyful and positive response when she had told him the news on Monday (and his amazing involvement, eager participation and help since then) had validated her decision to involve him and disclose her condition. She *had* definitely chosen the right man to father her child. This could just work out extremely well for all three of them - Terri, Harm and "the Bump" (a.k.a. Ellen Patricia Diana Caitlin Coulter).

She leaned in closer to him, breathing in his scent as they stopped at the panel which he knew so well and with which she would become acquainted. Teresa scanned down the engraved names, looking for the one name which she knew would be there as Harm began to address the cold, black stone. Taking off his glove, he placed a thumb on his father's name.

"Hi Dad, I'm here three months early for Christmas, but there is a wonderful woman whom I want to introduce to you. Her name is Teresa Coulter MD and hey, she's carrying your granddaughter Ellen. I guess that you probably knew that already, but I want to say it out loud - I'm going to be a daddy and I am so proud of her!"

Alongside him, Terri marshalled her thoughts. Once Harm had finished, she stepped forward.

"Harm, would you mind giving me some private time with your Dad, please?"

Naturally, Harm nodded and stepped back. Placing her forehead on the black slab, she spoke very quietly and very lovingly to Harm's father. Checking behind herself for any tripping hazards, she then stood upright and stepped back, linked arms once more with Harm and they looked at the black slab for another minute.

"Harm, I had never visited here before from Tennessee, but I now realise that it is so peaceful. This memorial, and its establishment, must have helped to heal many broken lives from the Vietnam era since it was opened in '82". Terri was surveying the long line of black slabs with their 58,000 names and, as her head rotated to sweep the other way (past where Harm had been standing alongside her) she realised that he wasn't there in her line of sight anymore. She looked down, to see him on one knee and looking up at her. She gasped in realisation and a hand flew to her mouth.

Ham was kneeling, holding a small red box in his hand. "Teresa Ellen Coulter, in this place and at this time, close to my father's marker and in the presence of his spirit, I offer you the Rabb family ring, which has been worn by several generations of Rabb women".

 **He paused. "Terri, I'm not sure of all the details yet, but I know that we can work them out. My main point for now is to ask you a simple question".**

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

Terri stood frozen, her only sign of movement was a gentle, nervous tapping of her left boot-heel on the walkway in front of the black slab which bore the inscription of Harmon Rabb Senior's name.

She looked at Harm like a rabbit in a very bright set of headlights.

"Wh-wh-what question did you want to ask me?" she eventually stammered out. Vague memories of Rory, many years ago, were starting to crowd her memory. However, this wasn't a noisy, smoky, student bar with loud music and a beer-throwing contest going on in the far corner; this was a quiet, reverential, truly meaningful part of the nation's Capital city, she was more than a decade older and Harm - the father of her unborn child - was on one knee in front of her, holding out a ring to her.

Suddenly she realised; trust Harmon Rabb to want to do the honourable thing!

A wavering cry escaped her lips: "Oh. My. God. _Harm_?" His name was delivered on a rising crescendo of concern.

"Teresa Ellen Coulter; mother of my child; would you please do me the inestimable honour of consenting to become my wife?"

"Oh, holy crap!"

Harm smiled nervously. "Err, I haven't ever done this before, Terri, but I would have expected (and hoped for) a ' _yes_ ' and perhaps been prepared for a ' _no_ ' or perhaps even a ' _not yet_ ' but I have to admit that ' _holy crap'_ *is* different, I'll grant you that". Harm maintained his position, kneeling in front of her.

"Harm; please get up off your knee; you are embarrassing me (and probably also your dad)".

"How about I stand up in exchange for your answer Terri? Please? My back is starting to hurt". A touch of petulance was creeping into Harm's voice - or maybe his knee was beginning to ache as well!

She smiled and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Oh yes, you idiot - of course I will marry you, God help me! Now *please* stand up, darling future husband!"

Terri smiled and took his face in her gloved hands, kissing him passionately. She removed the glove from her left hand and watched, transfixed, as Harm slid the Rabb family ring onto her finger. The slight swelling of her fingers, coincidentally, gave the ring a snug seat as he gently pushed it home. They kissed again, this time more tenderly, then looked back at the black slab of the Memorial.

"Thanks Dad, wish us well" Terri whispered.

"I am certain that he does" replied Harm.

Terri placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come on sailor, stay standing up and let me get you back to the hotel, so I can deliver on that promised meal".

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Sunday, 1st October 1998 - 09:31hrs EST**

 **Suite 4300, Adams House Hotel, Washington DC**

Harm awoke, once more, with Terri spooned against him and baby Ellen playing inside her mommy's womb. Terri's left hand, wearing the Rabb family ring, was resting on his upper chest. He realised that these moments made all the worries and fears worthwhile; if he died tomorrow, he would die happy. He slid out of the bed and prepared the coffee maker.

After a leisurely Sunday brunch spent reading the Washington newspapers, they spent a leisurely day around the hotel, with a brief walk outside during the early afternoon.

 **Monday, 2nd October 1998 - 06:05hrs EST**

 **Suite 4300, Adams House Hotel, Washington DC**

Harm helped Terri with packing her suitcase before running her to the airport. Waving to her as she walked slowly towards the security checkpoint of Departures, he smiled - this was going to be a good life. Terri waved her left hand, pointed to the ring, blew him a kiss and then she was gone.

She would telephone him later in the evening to report her safe arrival home and her promise to be " **the very best wife that Harmon Rabb could ever expect** ". Their evening phone call would last for some time, before they finally said goodnight and switched off the bedside lights in Washington and Memphis.

 **Monday, 2nd October 1998 - 08:05hrs EST**

 **Galley area, JAG HQ, Falls Church. VA**.

Carolyn Imes placed a hand on Harm's shoulder as she swung her lithe body around him and picked up the coffee pot.

"Hi Harm, how was your weekend? Did your lady get away back to Memphis OK".

"Oh hi Carolyn; it was very productive and satisfying and yes, Terri did get her flight home to Memphis. She will still be just about OK to fly here in late November for Thanksgiving, so this month she is fine".

He looked at the flame-haired attorney as she added creamer to her mug and turned to face him. Carolyn's finely-tuned lawyer antennae were twitching - Harm was being just too quiet following a weekend with his new lady friend visiting! She leaned her face against his bicep and looked up adoringly into his eyes, smiling and fluttering her eyelids like some innocent _ingénue_. "Oh, do tell Harm - any juicy gossip?"

"Well Carolyn, the mother of my child has consented to marry me".

Harm's final syllable was overshadowed by a squeal of delight as Carolyn dropped her coffee mug into the sink, flung her arms around Harm and hugged him, whispering " _and about time, flyboy_ " in his ear.

Just at that moment, Harriet Sims and Mac walked in, chatting cheerfully. Carolyn separated from Harm like she had been electrocuted, but raised eyebrows from Mac and Harriet let slip the fact that his secret was out, as Carolyn started cleaning up the debris in the sink. Mac's eyes focussed on Harm.

"Err, got engaged at the weekend" he mumbled. Harriet repeated the squeal-and-hug celebration that Carolyn had delivered, whilst Mac smiled warmly and shook Harm's hand. "Well done partner, she should appreciate the fine man that she will be marrying and I am sure that you will know how to value, respect and cherish your new wife". She filled her coffee mug and added creamer, then retreated swiftly to her office, closing the door behind her.

Harriet homed in, eager for any gossip which she could relay around the JAG HQ and beyond.

Alone in her office, Mac dabbed a handkerchief to her suddenly-moist eyes. She hadn't made a move on Harm at Red Rock Mesa on their first JAG assignment, despite the closeness which they had shared after the fearful helicopter ride, nor on the dockside at the end of the Holbarth case and she had given Terri Coulter a free run in Yuma back in April. Suddenly, she realised what she had missed. She looked out of the window and uttered one single word as her future hopes finally crumbled.

"Damn".

 **Monday, 2nd October 1998 - 08:59hrs EST**

 **Conference Room, JAG HQ, Falls Church. VA**.

"Admiral on deck"

Everyone stood, awaiting the " _as you were_ " as AJ Chegwidden swept into the room, to take up his customary position at the head of the long table for the commencement of the daily Staff Call.

He looked around at his attorneys and was please to see them all appearing to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on this first morning of the working week.

Cdr Carolyn Imes was, he noted, smirking at Cdr Harmon Rabb with a hand on his shoulders as she leaned in to whisper in his ear. As he was pretty certain that Imes and Rabb were not involved in performing the horizontal tango, he assumed another reason for the body language.

"Anything that you would care to share with the class, Cdr Imes?" he intoned, eyebrow raised.

" _Drat, busted_ " whispered Carolyn under her breath. "Err, no Admiral, just something that Cdr Rabb was pleased to pass on to me a little earlier this morning in the galley". She looked apologetically across to Harm and mouthed " _Sorry_ "; he shrugged and looked at the Admiral.

"Nothing to affect the work here, Admiral; I just asked the mother of my child to marry me at the weekend".

The Admiral smiled at Harm and grunted; "Well, I presume that, as she was mad enough to conceive your child, the insanity is continuing and she said yes?" At Harm's nod, the Admiral smiled: "Congratulations, son; if she is USNR, remember that spousal relocation can cut both ways."

"OK, people, back to crime and punishment". The Admiral picked up his pile of case files and set about issuing the tasks amongst his attorneys. Across the table, Alan Mattoni raised a thumb to Harm in the traditional "well done and good luck" sign. Harm nodded his gratitude in return, then turned to concentrate once more on the Admiral's instructions.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Tuesday 3rd October 1998 - 19:37hrs EST**

 **Home of Harmon Rabb, North of Union Station**

 **Washington DC**.

"Admiral Boone? It's Harmon Rabb"

"Hi Harm, how is Hammer's son today?"

Pretty good, sir, and engaged to be married".

"Well, it took you long enough" Tom Boone paused. "I'm guessing that it isn't the mad Major that you've been partnered with these past couple of years?"

"No Sir, it isn't Mac. I'll be marrying a wonderful USNR ME whom I met five months ago on a case".

"Five months eh? Well, Hammer's son must be slipping; what took you so long to get her to land on your flight deck, son?"

"Well sir, there's a bit of a story there..."

"Go on". Harm could imagine Tom Boone's eyebrows heading north towards a non-existent hairline. "Tell Uncle Tom the story while he drinks his coffee".

"OK. Well, we were sent out to Yuma back in April, on the case of a Navajo code talker whose bones had been found in New Zealand..."

25 minutes later, with the story related, Tom and Harm completed their call with a request from Tom to " _let me meet this mad girl sometime_ " and Harm's counter-promise to make it happen.

Harm refilled his coffee cup and then dialled a telephone number which, after the first call the night before, would assume pride of place, front and centre, in his memory.

"Coulter".

"Hello gorgeous mother of the next Rabb generation; how was your Tuesday?"

"Hello Tomcat" (Harm didn't miss the feline innuendo in Terri's shortened nickname for him, but he loved the inference). "We are both fine if a little tired; three autopsies completed and written up and, would you believe it, no fresh deaths for me to investigate over the weekend whilst I was in DC. Maybe I should head out of town more often" she joked.

"Well, I am sure that the gods have been conspiring, because we have a case out at the Tennessee naval depot at Millington, Tennessee. I'll be coming out to Memphis tomorrow to visit NSA Mid-South, NAVSUPPACT Mid-South, NSAMS and I reckon the case will take me two or three days to wrap up".

There was a thud at the other end of the line. "Terri?"

"Yes, all OK here, I just dropped something".

"OK, so long as you are OK - that's all that matters".

"You do realise that I live in Millington, don't you? I found the house after attending a couple of USNR meetings on base at the NAS. The home means that have a simple commute down the 51 each day, onto Thomas Street then Chelsea Avenue and down into MPD, plus I can use the local lab facilities on-base in Millington when I'm called up on Reserve duty. So if you fly into the NAS (or even Charles Baker) it will be far easier to drive to me than the main Memphis International Airport".

"Wow, what a small world. Look, I am not sure of all the details yet, but if I plan on travelling out tomorrow for work until Thursday and book a personal day for Friday, could we run another wedding planning session please?"

Terri's laugh, down the phone, was another sound which Harmon Rabb jr would be adding to his set of treasured memories. "Yes of course, my darling fiancé; now, I have three bedrooms here at home, or I can recommend a good hotel down the road if you would like to maintain a respectful distance?"

"Hmm - what a choice; OK, I have decided. What should your house guest bring?"

"Some flowers, a smile and a willing body - we have three bedrooms to 'christen' during your stay" she replied in a flash.

"Commander, I like the way you think" Harm replied.

"Well, I have other serious uses for your body all around the house - we could start on setting up Ellen's nursery if you are willing?"

"Lead on, mother of my child; lead on".

"OK, when will you know your flight arrangements?"

"We're trying to get a jump straight into the military air station at Millington, if not I'll get a ride into Memphis International and rent a car".

"OK, that makes sense Harm; I can't commit to collecting you because of my workload, so I'll give you my address and I'll aim to be home by 1830hrs. Wow, my Tomcat Lawyer man is coming to my city!"

"OK, anything else worrying you?".

"Yes, one of my old friends, Steamboat Willy, told me to tell you: ' _Harm old boy, it is extremely bad form to name your daughter after TWO of your former girlfriends_. _Also, four names for a baby is two too many. Pick two, preferably eliminating the_ _names of_ _former girlfriends_ '. What do you think? I reckon he has missed the point, because four names are almost mandatory if she is going to Wellesley."

"Well, whilst Steamboat Willy is of course entitled to his views, this is *our* child and it is up to *us* to decide. Are you worried about our daughter having four names, even if a couple are more-heavily linked to me rather than your history, darling?" Harm was obviously concerned that Steamboat Willy's observations had hurt Terri's feelings - or that his mention of former girlfriends might seem crass and/or insensitive.

He need not have worried: Terri's voice chuckled and he imagined the glow in her eyes as she smiled: "When he's naming *his* daughter, he can pick the names. For *my* daughter, those four names are just perfect and I love all four - whatever the provenance of some of them".

Naming problem closed, the newly-engaged couple settled down to continue their telephone conversation. By 21:30hrs, they had said their fond farewells and Harm was packing his sea-bag for up to six days away from home, ready for his extended trip to Tennessee.

 **Thursday, 5th October 1998 - 17:25hrs Local**

 **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road**

 **Millington, TN 38053**

Terri welcomed Harm with a kiss at her front door, then guided him through to the guest room where his sea-bag sat from the previous night.

"Hi Harm, welcome once more to my humble abode; oh, what lovely flowers - again; thank you and please stop buying up the flower shop!. Make yourself comfortable then meet me in the kitchen as usual - if you've forgotten from last night, just follow your nose".

He laughed at her apron, which bore the image of a bloodied meat-cleaver as she closed the front door. For the previous two evenings, she had worn a plain white apron in the kitchen.

"So, any problems with MPD about you getting tomorrow off or are you still chopping up corpses?"

Terri smiled at Harm's attempt at "gallows humour" and nodded.

"No problems at all, unless they have more than three murders before 1200noon, so please pray for a quiet Friday morning in downtown Memphis. In reality, we haven't been anywhere near that rate since the end of the Memphis drug wars back in '93" she replied. "What did your Admiral make of your request for tomorrow off and a Sunday flight back?"

Harm gave her one of his trademark smiles. "He grunted his approval; he's been encouraging me to put down roots for years, so he can hardly turn round now and decline my request now that I am engaged to be married, can he? So, how did you end up living in this part of Millington?"

"Well, Dad killed Mom in on-base housing in NAS Norfolk back in August of 1989 but that didn't put me off the idea of base housing per se; however, I had some money from Mom's estate, so I invested it in property here in Millington - and here we are". She spread her hands out to signify the property where they stood.

"Wait, your Dad was military?"

"Yes Harm but he is nothing to me, so I won't discuss him any more - please respect my wishes on this, Harm".

"No problem - he will never be mentioned again. So, you bought here in Millington; are you a fan of the rodeo down the street?".

"Well, the park down the road gives me the chance to get my jeans and cowboy boots on - not right now, of course!" She smiled and caressed her baby bump. "But next year, little Ellen could be looking at attending the rodeo if I'm still living here".

Harm's heart leapt at that statement "Why do you say that, Terri?"

She stood in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders; Harm was learning this this movement signified that Terri wanted to emphasise some point or other.

"Because practically, there is going to be a need for readjustment; you're in a relatively-senior role in DC (OK, you might get sent somewhere else in the world) but I am *only* a reservist so I would need to look for civilian-Government work and I reckon that I am quite highly-regarded in my field". She paused. "So I will be starting to put out feelers around the federal agencies in DC (with the blessing of my boss - I told her on Monday when she saw the engagement ring and she asked if we had thought through the implications) and it makes sense for me, some time before or after my maternity leave, to look for a job close to my new husband's base location in Falls Church".

Harm smiled. "Well, I know that I am marrying one very smart lady, who will hopefully be in demand wherever we settle. But that is a task for 1999. Coming back to this year, I need to start on the nursery; so how about we eat what you're creating in your kitchen tonight and then we start planning what is needed, then I spring for a takeout tomorrow night? Jack Keeter will be dropping by tomorrow night and will be working here on Saturday before he has to head back, so we should get a work list written up before we head to bed tonight - OK?"

"Yeah, OK Harm" Terri nodded. "So, let me show you what's cooking. I'm sorry to report that, thanks to little Miss Ellen here, I had an irresistible craving for something spicy, so I'm cooking a risotto with attitude in honour of my vegetarian visitor - and I'm having a side order of Chorizo sausage". Harm recalled Meg Austin's occasional foray into Texas chilli pizza and so he had an inkling of what was awaiting him.

The engaged couple strolled into the kitchen; Harm began, under Terri's direction, to lay the table. With glasses of chilled water, they began to enjoy the meal which Terri had prepared. Harm realised that, among any other skills which the Terri's late mother had imparted to Terri, good culinary skills were definitely on the list. He started browsing the two take-away brochures which Terri had plucked from her kitchen notice board. "Terri, tomorrow you and I are resting from the kitchen - I'm springing for the takeaways".

 **Thursday, 5th October 1998 - 19:48hrs Local**

 **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road**

 **Millington, TN 38053**.

With dinner long completed, Terri and Harm had stretched out on her sofa; Harm was lying along the edge, whilst Terri snuggled under his chin and rested her bump on his hip. Harm was rapidly becoming accustomed to this "nesting" position and he liked the access which it gave his hands and his head to hold her shoulder and nuzzle Terri's neck - which had started her purring again.

"Longer term, I was thinking (well, I had been thinking) of moving over to the east of here before all this happened - there is a lovely town called Arlington developing (yes, named after the Arlington in DC apparently!) further east down the 269, but that plan will be on hold until you and I decide where we are going to end up living together". Terri lay back; she had unveiled the elephant in the room, so offered Harm a Tennessee welcome; "Beer? You know where the fridge is and could you bring me a water please?"

"Oh yes please. Well, straight to the point, Terri; do you have a preference for a long-term base?" Harm rolled off the couch and headed for the fridge in the kitchen as Terri composed her response.

"Not really; obviously the _status quo_ works for me here in Memphis, but if I am going to be a loyal and obedient wife of a Naval officer, I should be prepared to move, mustn't I?" She fluttered her eyelashes at Harm and they both burst into laughter - ended suddenly when Terri grabbed her lower tummy and headed for the toilet. Little Ellen had obviously joined in with the excitement.

She returned a few minutes later, apologising for the interruption; Harm took her hand, kissed her forehead and whispered "thank you for putting up with this disruption to your body, to raise our daughter. I am *so* grateful to you, Teresa".

"Well, Tomcat, just you make darn sure that you always cherish us and you stay loyal." She snuggled against Harm once more.

"Teresa, from now on, I am a one-woman man".

"I'm glad to hear that, Tomcat, because if there are any doubts I shall be bringing a scalpel home! In all fairness, it was *my* idea to use your body that night to get little Ellen started, so the least I can do is to involve you in her birth and her upbringing; despite my father climbing into a bottle, I am certain that children have the best support in life when both their parents are involved. I feel sorry for those who grow up in single-parent households".

Laughing, they hugged and kissed as they settled back into the sofa.

 **Friday, 6th October 1998 - 07:55hrs Local**

 **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road**

 **Millington, TN 38053**.

Harm woke gently, and immediately re-acquainted himself with Terri's closeness. He had slept well and the day of domestic construction in the nursery lay ahead.

Their task-list created last night would keep him busy until at least Saturday evening, so he had two days to deliver all the work. He nuzzled Terri's neck to awaken her, She rapidly responded, then made the morning dash for the bathroom. He padded through to the kitchen and started brewing the first coffee of the morning.

Wandering into the dining room, he noticed a family portrait - obviously at least a decade old, based on the relative youth of Terri in the family portrait. He was surprised to make out the four-ring shoulder boards of a naval Captain, His curiosity spiked, but he remembered his promise to Terri and he had vowed not to pry. He returned to the kitchen as the coffee pot gave its final gurgle to signify completion.

Terri walked into the kitchen, with her dressing gown wrapped around her. "OK mister vegetarian man, what would you like for breakfast?"

Harm elected to go for fruit and coffee, whilst she set a couple of eggs boiling and buttered a couple of slices of wholemeal bread. They ate their breakfast in a very companionable silence, then Terri invited Harm to join her in the shower. The shower room rivalled Harm's shower facilities in his DC apartment, and the water flow was heavenly. At Terri's invitation, he soaped her back then worked the sponge down the entire length of her legs, soaping as he went, As he stood up, they kissed under the water flow before she started to shampoo her hair; once this was finished, she stepped out of the shower to leave him to complete his tasks.

An hour later, Terri had completed putting on her layers of clothing to protect her baby, including thick woollen pantyhose to wear inside her long boots (she was still wearing a skirt, which she explained to Harm as "more practical in my current condition" and he saw no reason to disagree - or even ask!) as she dressed against the autumn chill.

With Terri settled in the passenger seat of Harm's rental, they drove out and headed north up the 51 to Lowe's Home Improvement, where they purchased a crib, mobiles for the ceiling, paint, timber and screws so that Harm could begin building the nursery for little Ellen. The heavy work would await the arrival of Jack Keeter that evening.

"Harm, when Jack arrives, I would like the tall shelving unit constructed first, so that I can store the diapers, tissues, wipes, disposal bags and Heinz-57 varieties of other things that little Ellen is going to need".

"Good thinking, I'll go and ask where they are stored in here". The staff at Lowe's were knowledgeable and helpful; Harm was grateful that his rental was a station wagon, which swallowed all of the materials and flat-pack furniture.

They returned to the house mid-afternoon at which point Terri, after several hours out in the fresh air, slid off her boots and went for a nap whilst Harm re-drew the schematic for the baby's room whilst enjoying a steaming cup of Terri's coffee. He adhered to the carpenter's mantra: " _Measure twice, cut once_ ". Then with nothing else left to accomplish, he settled in the kitchen and set about polishing his dress shoes ready for Monday along with Terri's new boots, building up a layer of polish on her leather legwarmers to protect them against future autumn rains. With a final flick of a duster, he admired the gleaming results of his labours then went to make a fresh pot of coffee to wake Terri from her nap; even if she was only drinking one cup of coffee per day, he could awaken her by blowing the aroma of fresh coffee under her nose.

Terri awoke and looked into his eyes, then smiled and stretched, cat-like, as she attained full consciousness. "What time is Keeter due to help you?" she asked.

"Another couple of hours yet; do you fancy anything to eat or nibble, O growing Momma?" he replied.

A playful slap on the forearm was his reward! Then Terri drew him in for a deep, languorous kiss: "Hmm, I love the taste of coffee, Tomcat!"

 **Friday, 6th October 1998 - 17:05hrs Local**

 **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road**

 **Millington, TN 38053**.

Harm took advantage of Jack Keeter's arrival to undertake the construction of two wardrobes and a set of shelves, together with a firm frame which would hold the baby bath at a comfortable height. The call to the take-away restaurant was made at 20:15hrs and, with beers consumed, Harm and Jack polished off a pot of coffee before the team decision endorsed " _lights out_ " at 21:30hrs.

Keeter headed off to his motel, pleading the polite excuse of " _leaving you two kids to play_ ", after he had booked breakfast for 09:00hrs in Terri's kitchen for the following morning.

With dinner long completed, they spent an hour looking at ideas for the wedding, then slipped off to bed for an early night; Terri was asleep by 23:00hrs, leaving Harm to read an old aeronautical engineering magazine which he had brought with him on the flight from DC. By midnight he was fast asleep, the magazine sliding from his fingers to the floor.

When Terri surfaced at 01:39hrs for her first pit-stop of the night, she walked round the bed and turned off his light, kissing him softly on the cheek. She noticed that he murmured slightly then resumed his peaceful slumber.

 **Terri was uncertain as to what would transpire in her future life, but she sure was glad to have this wonderful man alongside her as she entered a phase of female reproduction which, based on the end of her married life with Rory, she had never expected to embark upon**.

.

 **Saturday, 7th October 1998 - 08:57hrs Local**

 **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road**

 **Millington, TN 38053**.

The knock on the door announced the arrival of Jack Keeter (who had phoned Harm's cellphone 30 minutes earlier to confirm his ETA). By lunchtime, the nursery was completed, so the three friends headed out for lunch before Keeter headed off to catch his return flight.

Harm and Terri curled up once more on the sofa for the Saturday afternoon; they awoke periodically (mainly driven by the pressures on Terri's bladder, occasionally assisted by Ellen's activities) before Harm cooked a stir-fry at 19:00hrs and they were in bed by 21:30hrs.

As sleep embraced him, Harm kissed the top of Terri's head and murmured: "I am so glad you took advantage of me that night, little Miss Tennessee Bombshell". It was the first time he had disclosed her nickname to Terri. She smiled to herself, snuggled closer into him and murmured back: "Yeah, and I love having you here, Mister Tomcat Lawyer".

The two unlikely parents-to-be were growing increasingly familiar with one another; the arrival of baby Ellen, due in late January 1999, would "merely" be another step along the road of their journey together.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase three - "Memphis Belle**


	4. Thanksgiving and Christmas 98

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 4 - part 6)**

 **A/N: "** ** _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_** **". See Phase One for the whole A/N.**

 **Timing:** This AU story diverges from canon after the court hearings are closed in the Navajo Nation after the Jimmy Blackhorse case (S03Ep21). Subsequently, the lives of Harm and Teresa take a different path...

 **Summary: this is a fictional story, in a fictional (slightly) Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005. It involves a minor diversion from canon, at the tail end of episode S03Ep21, which introduced us to the character of Lt Cdr Teresa Coulter, MD, USNR. Circumstances and events in this AU story may make the timeline of S04Ep17 "Nobody's Child" (March 1999) untenable in the canon timeline (but I may have a cunning plan to link back into that timeline as this AU story develops!).**

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Phase Four of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "** **Late 1998, Thanksgiving and Christmas** **"**

A/N 15-04-2018: Sorry about the cliff-hanger at the end of this chapter/phase, but I needed to split the next two parts (part six from part seven) of the story. Mike

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Part six - "Late 1998, Thanksgiving and Christmas"**

 **Tuesday 31st October 1998 - 17:25hrs Local**

 **Naval Support Activity Mid-South**

 **722 Integrity Dr, Millington, TN 38054**

 **Millington, TN 38054**.

Harm was back in Millington for the final phase (reports, decisions, recommendations to convening authority) of his enquiry at the NAS, so he had naturally arranged to travel out on the Friday night so that he could spend the weekend with his fiancée before the Monday morning start of the case work. Investigations were therefore substantially complete when he cleared up the temporary desk before he headed towards Terri's home on the Tuesday evening. As he locked his briefcase and picked up the plastic Hallowe'en pumpkin to hang on Terri's porch, his phone rang in his pocket. He smiled as he recognised the number.

"Hey gorgeous pregnant Tennessee momma-to-be, how's it goin'?"

"Well Harm, until about ten minutes ago, the answer was good-to-fine-to-perfect"; Terri's voice sounded tired and Harm instantly became worried until she explained in her next breath. "Unfortunately, some kids have been playing with fireworks and I have three DoA autopsy cases and the ER is dealing with three traumatic amputations, so I'm sorry, Mister Tomcat Lawyer man, but I am gonna be late". Her Tennessee drawl was a comfort to Harm, even though he now knew that their reunion that evening would be delayed. He was very proud that the tough mother of his child was still carrying out her duties as she passed the six-month point in her pregnancy and started counting down the final three months to little Ellen's arrival.

"Hey Terri, no problem - that is your job and you are darn good at it. Look, have you eaten lunch? I ask because I don't want little Ellen - or her mom - going hungry".

Terri was able to put Harm's mind at ease instantly. "Yes, I had a delayed lunch at 14:00hrs after a good breakfast with you at home as you know, so my blood sugars are gonna be fine. Look, let's assume we'll be getting together around 21:00hrs at my house - can you wait until then and we'll grab a takeaway? Let's face it, after all that home-cooked food we've enjoyed this weekend, you won't starve any time soon if you have one dose of 'junk' food".

"Indeed I won't - and thanks for the key which you gave me; I can let myself in. Is there anything I can do in the house whilst I wait for you?"

"Oh thanks darling - there is a basket of washed clothing in the utility room, which needs ironing and would save me from standing up at the ironing board - please?"

"Consider it done; err... perhaps you could call and update me around 20:00hrs with an ETA?"

"Yup, surely will... Oh, I suggest that you go home via the store and grab some small candies and sweets and fruit for the little ' _trick or treaters_ ' who may be swarming around when you arrive home - it was on my list for today before the fireworks casualties. See ya later, Tomcat!"

Harm's heart soared at Terri's use of the word "home"; he sensed a growing feeling of permanence in their bond around the baby.

With the call disconnected, Harm bade farewell to his junior JAG colleague (who was heading back to her room at the VOQ for an overnight stay before she would meet up with him again for the continuing journey back to DC on Wednesday morning) and headed out towards Hickory Meadow Road.

 **Tuesday 31st October 1998 - 19:55hrs Local**

 **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road**

 **Millington, TN 38053**.

"Rabb".

"Hey Tomcat, I have good news and bad news". Terri's voice sounded less tired, so Harm's spirits lifted slightly.

"OK, how goes the autopsy queue?"

"Very well; wrapping up the last one (one of my colleagues elected to stay on, so she has done one already and is around 80% through number two, whilst I have completed my one but then I also covered the paperwork for both of us) so timings have improved".

"With the result that...?" Harm was fishing; he heard Terri's lovely laugh down the phone. "Careful Tomcat, the good news is that I'll be home for 21:00hrs easy, which is why I want the take-away ready on the table for that time - please?"

"No problem my darling; what is your choice?"

"Indian please, a nice hot curry with rice and poppadums"; the fatigue was still evident in Terri's voice.

"OK, I'll use the one back near the base - unless I hear from you again, I'll be serving at 21:00hrs". Harm paused: "Darling, what was the bad news?"

"That I've gotta tell three sets of parents why their child isn't coming home". Although Terri said it with such flat-voiced calm, Harm sensed that, as an expectant mother, she was finding this trio of teenage autopsies to be unduly hard on her. He wished that he could reach down the phone line and hug her.

"OK darling; you have a great manner and people cannot help but respond positively to you. You are also the lovely lady who will explain to them why they are in pain. I love you and come home safely".

"You too, Tomcat - see ya later". Terri disconnected, leaving Harm to re-check the menu card and make sure that he knew how to reach the address where the take-away was situated.

 **Tuesday 31st October 1998 - 21:55hrs Local**

 **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road**

 **Millington, TN 38053**.

Terri's arrival home had been welcomed and celebrated with a kiss, a hug, a meal set out ready to eat and (later) a foot massage and bed, in that order.

As they settled into the bed, Harm asked a question which had been bothering him for a few weeks.

"Terri, I've been thinking ahead to the question of where I will live when I need space for you, me, us and the baby (to live in Washington, or to visit depending upon *your* decision after the birth)".

Terri turned round in his arms and rested her head alongside his on the pillows. "Well, I get the feeling that the freight elevator in your building is inhabited by some vengeful daemon, so I'd prefer you to take a house (or an apartment on a lower floor of a purpose-built apartment block with a good elevator - but that's just my preference) when you decide to buy somewhere bigger". She smiled into his eyes: "What do you reckon, Tomcat?"

"Hmm, well it turns out that Frank and Mom have been building, nurturing and preserving a very good trust fund for me. Because I didn't need college funds (because I went to Annapolis) there is a massive fund waiting for me; I'd like you to be fully involved in the hunt for *our* new home darling, so might I drag you up to Washington some time soon for a house-hunting weekend?"

Terri snuggled back into his arms. This was moving fast, but it didn't feel at all wrong; it just felt so *right* to her.

"OK Harm, why don't we make a long weekend over the Thanksgiving holiday - you could be in your new home before Christmas maybe?"

"Terri, I like the way you think - and I would like to regard it as *our* home or at least our DC pad! OK, Thanksgiving it shall be - I'll get onto the mailing lists for a couple of realtors in the DC, Falls Church and McLean areas (to start with)". He looked at her: "or should we pick an earlier weekend, because by Thanksgiving you will be around two months out from delivering?"

As Terri sat back and considered his question, Harm realised another point to be made in the discussion.

"Look Terri, with three weeks to go before the Thanksgiving break, airline tickets are going to be expensive; would you please allow me to transport the mother of my child in a little comfort - and I'll get you into First Class (on the flights where it is available) or Business Class. Please may I do this for you, darling?"

She hugged him once more and kissed him passionately. "Oh go on then, my darling generous Tomcat - and thank you".

Harm smiled and relaxed: "and now - lights out".

The two love-birds slept well that Tuesday night; the decisions which they had just made had moved their relationship forward.

Harm flew back up to Washington on the Wednesday morning in a great mood of contentment. Further good news followed rapidly regarding the Thanksgiving weekend: Terri's boss needed to be at home in and around Memphis for the holiday break, so had no problems with releasing Terri so that she could fly up for a Thanksgiving weekend in DC. With a househunting weekend slotted in on Friday November 13th and viewings booked through until the Sunday, Terri was all set to fly up on the Wednesday lunchtime before Thanksgiving and grab a cab to Falls Church.

As it happened, Terri and Harm saw a lovely house on Saturday November 14th, which Terri decided she wanted to re-inspect over the Thanksgiving break.

 ** **Wednesday 25th November 1998 - 16:55hrs Local****

 **JAG HQ VCP, Falls Church VA**

Terri had telephoned Harm as her taxi left the airport, so he was standing at the VCP when she arrived. Carrying her suitcase and her suit-cover which he deposited into his Lexus as they crossed the car-park en-route to the main building, he signed her in (she always travelled with her USNR credentials so that the Marine guards knew they did not need to escort her) and she was soon settled in the comfortable guest chair in Harm's office.

Within two minutes, Harriet's antennae were twitching and she arrived in Harm's doorway to offer herbal tea or decaff coffee, of which Terri gratefully accepted the former. At seven months (approaching her 30th week), Terri's balance was still OK but she already knew that she would not object if little Ellen was to put in an early appearance. Her ankles had swollen slightly on the flight and so she was anticipating a major massage/foot-rub session with her fiancé that evening once they reached his home.

There was a quick rap on the doorframe, as Mac walked in with a folder in her hand.

"Hey Harm have you got the disposition on the..." Mac suddenly realised that Harm was not alone, that the LtCdr in front of her was his fiancée and, from the side profile, that a birth in January (if not earlier, around Christmas) was *entirely* likely!

She stepped back: "I'm sorry to intrude; hello LtCdr Coulter, how are things progressing?"

"Pretty well, Major MacKenzie, thank you - but as I know you are one of Harm's closest friends, I would take it as a personal honour if you would call me Terri (unless we are both working in court professionally, of course, when formality must prevail)". She looked down at her swollen waistline and chuckled: "But I guess that will be next year now?"

"Sure, and it would be my honour to ask you to call me Mac - again outside of a courtroom". Both women laughed easily and the risk of any residual tension in the room was dissipated. Harm knew that his two closest women would "play nice" without him needing to ask/tell them, because they knew without asking that the " _Battle for Harm_ " was over - and Mac had come second.

Harm also thought it judicious (and politically expedient) to introduce his fiancée to his CO; Terri staggered once more to her feet to walk through the bull-pen to where Jason Tiner guarded the entrance to the Admiral's inner sanctum.. Once the Admiral had ensured that Terri was comfortably seated in his office and that water was on hand, AJ Chegwidden was politeness personified, ensuring Terri's comfort whilst thanking her for the excellence of her work on the Jimmy Blackhorse case back in April and expressing the hope that she might be able to assist again in the future.

"Well Admiral, you may just find that Tennessee's finest is moving to Virginia or DC" she replied. "I cannot, in all conscience, drag my Tomcat Lawyer out into the boonies of Tennessee, so it looks like I'm going to be the one leaving the job I love once Coulter junior in here arrives. I'll be starting my maternity leave on December 10th, so I'm running out of time to sort out our new home here in DC". She looked at Harm.

"Well Admiral, Terri and I will be house-hunting over the weekend once Thanksgiving festivities are out of the way. We did in fact see a lovely home ten days ago and we're re-inspecting that over this weekend".

"Well, please feel free to keep me in the loop on the job front, Cdr Coulter - when you are ready to return to the fray, please call me here at JAG HQ, because it would be my honour to open some doors for you around the DC area. The service needs to retain good officers if at all possible when competing with the joys of parenthood".

"Why thank you suh. Ah reckon ah'll be a'comin' back after the birth, because I'd get bored spitless with dummies and diapers all day - and ah have mah very own Tomcat to help with those". Terri laid on the "Southern Belle" act with just the right element of humour and politeness. AJ felt his heart melting and he actually envied Rabb for having been able to bed the Tennessee Bombshell after the Blackhorse case (although the Admiral suspected that, for once, young Rabb had been given very little choice in the matter once young Miss Coulter had taken aim at him).

"Carry on people: in fact" (*he opened the side door of his office and, raising his voice, addressed the entire bullpen*) " _it is time for everyone to *GO HOME* and enjoy your Thanksgiving_ ".

No-one felt like disobeying *that* particular order from their Admiral! Within ten minutes, the offices were empty, secured and handed over to the Marines of the security detachment.

 ** **Thursday 26th November 1998 - Thanksgiving - 18:55hrs Local****

 **Home of Harmon Rabb jr, Washington DC**

"Terri, how much gravy do you want when I plate up the food?" Harm felt the pressures of domestic bliss closing in on him - despite him being a very accomplished cook, he was working hard to provide his lovely fiancée with the perfect Thanksgiving experience.

"Just threaten it with gravy then serve everything up and come to the table - I'm getting bored and horny" replied Teri.

Harm's curious face appeared around the kitchen doorframe - Terri merely smiled and adopted an angelic face.

"Horny?" he asked.

"Oh yes, pregnant women have all sorts of sexual fantasies - it's the hormones, you know" replied Terri with a " _butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth_ " expression. She took pity on him and smiled gratefully as he delivered her plate to the table. She slid a hand around his thigh as he stood alongside her. Harm leapt slightly at the unexpected touch; sometimes, Harm regretted the idea of marrying a female MD - she had *such* a detailed understanding of human anatomy!

He drew a breath and continued. "Well, we have four houses lined up for tomorrow and Saturday plus the re-viewing in McLean, so I hope that we'll have a good idea on our future home before you fly back home to Memphis on Sunday" he replied.

Terri stretched back in her chair. "That would be nice to have finalised before my mat leave starts - I am terrified of being in the wrong location when my waters break" she confided. "I really wouldn't want to have to suddenly break in an emergency OB/GYN who isn't familiar with my files".

Harm agreed: "Terri, that makes perfect sense; certainly after December 10th you will be staying in Millington (or at least around the greater Memphis area) for the duration".

Terri popped a mock salute. "Yeah, that would be week 32 and I actually will *not* be planning on flying after the end of November. So that means you'll be coming across to me, Tomcat". Terri was already planning her Memphis nest-building to cover the period between finishing work on December 10th and her expected delivery date.

"Well, I booked my Christmas flights yesterday, so I'm all booked for a Memphis Christmas with my lovely, pregnant, Tennessee fiancée" he responded, kissing her hands.

Terri looked at him through eyes narrowed in irritation. "And when were you planning on telling me *that* nugget of information, Tomcat?" She smiled. "Now then, which house are we looking at first when we set out tomorrow?"

 **Saturday 28th November 1998 - 17:03hrs Local**

 **Home of Harmon Rabb jr, Washington DC**

"So Terri, I reckon the clincher was the basement suite and the ready-to-go nursery upstairs - how about you?"

"I agree Harm, plus I know that you were salivating at the prospect of that three-car garage so you can protect your antique Corvette from the DC winters. Yes, that's the one for us. I'm only sorry that I can't put any money in because I'll obviously be stuck with Millington until Ellen is weaned or at least a few months after the birth when I can sort out the career move".

"Darling, don't worry for a second - just concentrate on keeping yourself and little Ellen safe and on track. I checked with Frank yesterday and I can meet the price for *our* new home without destroying the fund. Even better in fact, I reckon we'll have most of Ellen's college fund ready even after buying what I shall always regard as *our* home because it will be where we begin our married life and our family life. And hey, my 'Vette is vintage, not antique!". They kissed, tenderly as always, with Harm placing a gentle hand on Terri's swollen abdomen. He felt a slight kick under his hand - little Ellen was joining in the house-buying discussion.

Terri looked up into his eyes, smiled and placed her hand over his; her engagement ring sparkled. She sighed. "God Harm, I would never in a million years have forecast 1998 turning out the way it has when I made my New Year wish eleven months ago".

"What were you hoping for?" He picked up her hand and nuzzled the ring.

"Well, a good healthy life, a challenging job, good friends and comfortable shoes - I'd given up on the idea of marriage, as you know, until this lovely Tomcat Lawyer landed in Arizona back in April". She stretched, then squeaked and winced, holding her hand to the small of her back.

"What is it, darling?" Harm was instantly concerned.

"Nothing major; just a fact of physiology - a woman's spine gets severely bent out of shape over a nine-month period as the front of her body balloons out, then the spine goes back to more-or-less straight in around nine hours during the delivery. Sometimes you get a twinge". She rubbed her spine and smiled up at him.

"Well, I can offer a back-rub or another footrub" he replied.

Terri waved her legs at him. He unzipped and removed her boots and socks, went to the kitchen and returned with a towel and a bowl of warm water with rose-oil already poured into the water, then he set to work.

Half an hour later, Terri had forgotten her own name and was purring in ecstasy as he finished his ministrations; she beckoned him in for his reward - a passionate kiss from his appreciative fiancée.

 **Sunday 29th November 1998 - 12:03hrs Local**

 **Home of Harmon Rabb jr, Washington DC**

"Right; bags packed, clothing all zipped up - let's get you to the airport".

Arm-in-arm, Harm and Terri walked to the Lexus, ready for Harm to drive her to the airport. He dropped her off for the kerb-side check-in, drove the Lexus to the car park and then sprinted back, to accompany her to the gate. He waved her off down the jetway then walked slowly back into the terminal. As he walked through the concourse, he wondered briefly about the security aspects of allowing people to accompany passengers as far as the aircraft gate; a nagging worry at the back of his mind questioned whether this long-standing freedom in American airports was actually wise. The Europeans had moved the boundaries for "non-passengers" back into the main terminal areas some years before, to improve flight security. He shrugged off his concern, reclaimed his car from the car park and headed home, as Terri (with Ellen safely onboard) headed off on her flight home.

Looking at the terminal building as the plane accelerated down the runway, Terri shed a small tear - although she was heading "home" to Memphis today, this capital city was likely to become her new home during 1999. Settling back in the comfort of her business class seat, she realised what she was giving up for this lovely man whom she would be marrying; some independence, a home in Memphis and part of a career - but all the advantages of married life and a life (and career) in the nation's capital city far outweighed these consideration and fears. "Dammit Mom, why did you have to get murdered?" she thought to herself. Every pregnant girl could benefit from her mom's wise advice.

She looked down and spread her hands across Ellen's temporary home and admired the engagement ring; she couldn't wait until it was joined by a wedding band. Her mind wandered into the practical matter of her name. LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb, MD, USNR or Dr Teresa Rabb-Coulter MD. She stopped suddenly; "how about Teresa Rabb?" She shook her head, catching the eye of the stewardess who instantly came across to see if anything was needed. "A water please when convenient - my little passenger is being demanding".

"Amen to that, ma'm; my two-year-old really took all she wanted when I was carrying her; but I reckon the end-result is worth it".

Terri smiled: "And you say this as she is about to enter the 'terrible twos' phase and turn into a tantrum queen?".

The stewardess laughed: "Oh no ma'am, I fly and my husband works from home - I reckon he can train his little princess".

"Good luck with that". Terri sipped her water. She hadn't realised how thirsty she was, so drained the glass and set it down. The stewardess quickly retrieved it and went back for a replacement bottle. As the stewardess headed to the galley, Terri thought back to the name once more. " _No, I shall keep my professional name at work and in the professional space; but it would perhaps be nice to be Terri Rabb at home_ ". She smiled to herself and accepted the glass of water when the stewardess returned.

As the plane gained height, Terri Coulter was at peace; ready for motherhood, marriage and a new career in a new city. She dozed off, rocked by the gentle motion of the plane.

 **(A/N:** In the USA, the Family and Medical Leave Act of 1993 (FMLA) requires 12 weeks of unpaid leave annually for mothers of newborn or newly adopted children. This is one of the lowest levels of leave in the industrialised world. In comparison to other countries, the United States is one of the only countries that has not passed laws requiring business and corporations to offer paid maternity leave to their employees)

 **Tuesday 1st December 1998 - 09:03hrs Local**

 **Office of LtCdr Harmon Rabb jr,**

 **JAG HQ Falls Church VA**

"Right Charlie; that price as agreed with those replacement items done or the agreed allowances deducted from the price, close either before Christmas or on Monday January 11th and I leave that with your client to decide, on case they want to have one last Christmas in their old home or move out before Christmas. I just need to know their decision on the final date before 16:00hrs next Friday, December 11th. That is because I need to set up the money transfer with my bankers on a " _fire and forget_ " transfer by reference to you then I shall be in Memphis awaiting the birth of my first child - so the new house paperwork will plummet down my priority list on Friday night December 11th, capiche?"

Charlie at the other end of the phone (the realtor handling the sale of the new Harmon/Teresa Rabb-Coulter home) understood perfectly and committed to fit in with Harm's timeline.

"OK, then let me know if you need to FedEx any documents across to me in Memphis - I'll email you the address down in Millington. Thanks Charlie".

 **Saturday, 26th December 1998 - 21:55hrs Local**

 **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road**

 **Millington, TN 38053**.

The two unlikely parents-to-be were growing increasingly familiar with one another; the arrival of baby Ellen, due in late January 1999, would "merely" be another step along the road of their journey together. After a lovely Christmas in Terri's Memphis home during a comfortable fortnight in Tennessee, the engaged couple had spent Boxing Day resting during the morning, followed by a walk down the road to the rodeo park.

As she marked the end of the eighth month of her pregnancy, Terri was finding her energy levels dropping, but she was determined to walk every day. The 300-yard walk to the park entrance got her blood pumping nicely, so she continued walking towards the Big Creek on the southern edge of the park. Halfway across, a small twinge caused her to stop. Harm placed a concerned hand on the shoulder.

"Terri sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"Err, not sure; this is a different type of discomfort from anything I've felt before". She headed across to a park bench, swept it clean with her gloved hand then sat down. After ten minutes the symptoms had subsided, so Harm helped her up and they walked slowly back home. On arriving home, he unzipped her boots and helped her feet into her comfortable fluffy slippers.

As they closed the front door, Terri looked for the "go-bag" (pink in colour, as distinct from her black ME duty-bag). "Harm, can we just check over the contents of the pink bag please?"

"Yep, sure thing". He frowned - was this the Terri intuition kicking in?

She smiled, tensely, as he hefted the bag onto the table. She checked over the contents then closed the bag and padded into the bedroom and lay down.

"Tea, darling?"

"Oh yes please Harm." Terri sat up and sipped the herbal tea as the pain in her lower back subsided. She blew out a breath with relief.

"Phew, that was unpleasant. I wonder what that was? I'm still four weeks off delivering" she mused.

 **Tuesday, 29th December 1998 - 11:37hrs Local**

 ** **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road****

 **Millington, TN 38053**.

"Harm - I need my cellphone and my handbag".

"Coming up - everything ok?"

"That twinge is back - you remember the one from last Saturday?"

"OK, what can I do?"

"Just be sure that the pink go-bag is by the front door; I'm calling Caroline".

She pulled her cellphone open and lifted a yellow sheet of paper from her handbag. She perused it quickly then smiled. "Thank God, Caroline's on duty this afternoon - she emails me her schedule each week".

Caroline Hickson was Terri's OB/GYN (and a mother of two seven-year-old twins), who had been Terri's constant advisor since Terri first sought out a medic after discovering her pregnancy. Her cool, calm Tennessee tones wafted over the phone lines as Terri made contact.

"Hey Terri, how ya doin'?"

"Caroline, I'm sorry to disturb you... Couple of sudden twinges which aren't like what I've had before. It's just that I'm worried and this isn't my field as you know".

"OK Terri, I'll be on duty at 2pm; can you hold on for a coupla hours or should I come in early?"

"Don't come in specially early - I am sure that I can wait, so spend time with your lovely twins. Look, I have nothing to base this against, but it happened the first time on Saturday".

"Hmm, I think I know what it is from the description; 2PM will be fine - but bring your go-bag".

"Err Caroline, I'm early - do you think something is happening?"

"Terri, I just want to be safe and sure - you know that us medics make the worst patients, don't you? So will you listen to me when I tell you to calm down?"

The two lady doctors laughed down the phone at their shared "in" joke, then agreed to meet at 2PM in the Maternity Unit.

 **Tuesday, 29th December 1998 - 13:58hrs Local**

 ** **Maternity Unit, Methodist Le Bonheur Germantown Hospital **,******

 **7691 Poplar Ave, Germantown, TN 38138**

"Hey Caroline, this is my fiancé Harm".

"Ah, so you're the Navy guy who got my girl into trouble? I'm pleased to meet you Harm. Welcome to my hospital". Caroline was a tall, cheerful brunette who shook hands with Harm and Terri before directing Terri to a chair. She checked the basics with a stethoscope and then took Terri's blood pressure.

She frowned. "Terri, have you been doing anything particularly active in the past few hours?"

"Nope, just a gentle half-mile walk on level ground, down to the Rodeo park and back, so just the same average distance as I usually do every day".

"Hmm, your BP is elevated" She relayed the actual readings and Terri, as a qualified MD, agreed that the readings were unusual.

"Well I'm normally steady as a rock on my BP and the routine ante-natal checkups haven't flagged anything up." Terri shrugged her shoulders.

"Any history of pre-eclampsia?"

Terri sighed. "Dunno, my Mom passed away ten years ago and I'm not on speaking terms with my father; all the ancestors have passed and I'm an only child".

"OK Terri, I want to admit you as a precaution - that reading isn't right and you're at 35 weeks now so I'm putting the baby first. Harm, it is good that you have her go-bag".

She turned her gaze back to Terri. "Terri, we'll get you to Admitting and I'll see you again an about an hour from now, once you are settled in your suite".

"OK doc, I'm in your hands". Caroline's nurse took over, swiftly and efficiently sorting out the paperwork. Terri retained her customary appearance of looking relaxed, calm and serene - although Harm noticed that her heel was tapping the ground - one of Terri's little "tells" that he had learned about her in the past few months.

 **Tuesday, 29th December 1998 - 15:10hrs Local**

 ** **Maternity Unit, Methodist Le Bonheur Germantown Hospital****

 **Memphis Memorial Hospital,**

 **7691 Poplar Ave, Germantown, TN 38138**

"OK Terri, your BP is still elevated and you've been laying flat for a while. I'm going to run some basic tests on 'little Ellen' but I think we should have a conversation about inducing, just as a precaution to agree our options at this stage."

"OK Caroline, I concur. Harm, are you OK to stay? It's a silly question I know, but if you need to go grab any fruit, nuts or whatever, this could be a long night; so get comfortable, Tomcat".

Caroline smiled at the Terri's affectionate nickname for the father of her child. It was always better, Caroline mused, that the couples communicated well in the latter phases of pregnancies, in case any urgent decisions needed to be made. She could see that Terri and Harm had a good, strong, easy-going relationship, which would bear fruit later in the stressful setting of the labour ward.

Terri summoned Harm to the bedside chair alongside her bed. She took his hand and looked into his eyes. He realised that something serious was coming.

She kissed his hand. "Harm, I've carried this baby for over eight months and I am looking forward to becoming a mother and then becoming your wife. When you first stood alongside me in that Laboratory back in April and breathed on my neck, my body responded in a way that I had never felt before. I knew then that you were destined to be mine. You were - and have been - the perfect man to father my child".

She paused before continuing. Her grip on Harm's hand tightened. He realised that her lovely blue eyes were crying.

"I'm also an ME and I know that - just occasionally - things can go suddenly and catastrophically wrong during a birth. The mortality rates for females in childbirth in the USA are three times the rate of Canada. This blood pressure spike isn't normal. So I want you to promise me something please".

Harm stared back into her eyes, not certain what was coming next. "Yes Terri, of course".

"I have loved the time that we have spent together and I really look forward to motherhood, married life, becoming your wife and growing old, watching our children grow and our careers blossom. However - and I shall say the same to remind Caroline because she and I have already discussed this - if it becomes necessary to make a choice in the next 24 hours, Ellen must be the priority - that's my duty as a mother. Now, it is very unlikely, but if you have to make a choice, sacrifice me for the baby. I want you to promise me that - it's very important".

Through his tears, Harm nodded as he kissed her hand. He prayed that he would emerge from the next period of time with both a healthy daughter and also a live wife-to-be. After all these years of failed relationships (and the disaster of Diane's murder), he had finally found the perfect woman to be alongside him all his life, yet here she was prepared to sacrifice herself for their child.

He gently nuzzled her neck, just below her earlobe, and whispered "How did I deserve you, wonderful Tennessee Bombshell?"

They both laughed through their tears.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase four - "** **Late 1998, Thanksgiving and Christmas** **"**


	5. Parenthood

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 5 - part 7)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole A/N.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Phase Five of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Parenthood '99"**

A/N(1): 28-04-2018: Homeward bound; Ellie comes home, Harm welcomes Trish to the home where she meets Little Ellen and Terri, for the first time.

A/N(2): Published on Sat 28-04-2018 - marking the 20th anniversary of the original broadcast of S03Ep21 ("The Return of Jimmy Blackhorse"), which introduced us to the character of Lt Cdr Teresa Coulter, on 28-04-1998

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Chapter 5 - (Part seven) - "Parenthood '99".**

 **.**

 **Tuesday, 29th December 1998 - 15:10hrs Local**

 ** **Maternity Unit, Methodist Le Bonheur Germantown Hospital****

 **Memphis Memorial Hospital,**

 **7691 Poplar Ave, Germantown, TN 38138**

 ** _Recap_** : Terri paused before continuing. Her grip on Harm's hand tightened. He realised that her lovely blue eyes were crying.

"Harm, I'm also an ME and I know that - just occasionally - things can go catastrophically wrong during a birth. Additionally, mortality rates for females in childbirth in the USA are three times the rate of Canada. This blood pressure spike isn't normal. So I want you to promise me something please".

Harm stared back into her eyes, not certain what was coming next. "Yes Terri, of course".

"I have loved the time that we have spent together and I really look forward to motherhood, married life, being with you and growing old, watching our children grow and our careers blossom. However - and I shall say the same to remind Caroline because she and I have already discussed this - if it becomes necessary to make a choice in the next 24 hours, baby Ellen must be the priority: that's my duty as a mother. Now, it is very unlikely, but if you have to make a choice, sacrifice me for the baby. I want you to promise me that - it's very important".

Through his tears, Harm nodded as he kissed her hand. He prayed that he would emerge from the next period of time with both a healthy daughter and also a live wife-to-be. After all these years, he had finally found the perfect woman to be alongside him all his life, and yet she was prepared to sacrifice herself for their child.

He gently nuzzled her neck, just below her earlobe, and whispered "How did I deserve you, my wonderful Tennessee Bombshell?"

They both laughed through their tears...

 **Tuesday, 29th December 1998 - 19:25hrs Local**

 ** **Maternity Unit, Methodist Le Bonheur Germantown Hospital****

 **Memphis Memorial Hospital,**

 **7691 Poplar Ave, Germantown, TN 38138**

"Well Terri, your BP is down a bit further, but still elevated; I'm going off duty at 10PM but will be back at 2PM tomorrow, so I suggest we give you an overnight, with four-hourly obs, then I'll look at Pitocin over the next 48. Little Ellen is perfectly engaged at +1 past the spines, so she is ready to rock". Caroline and Terri were entirely comfortable communicating in what Harm regarded as "medic-speak", but he suspected that he was missing out on something.

He raised a hand. "Err, excuse me lady doctors, jargon alert! Non-medical Navy lawyer here!"

"Oh sorry Harm, I was just saying to Terri that I intend to leave her for 24hours, let her body run through whatever it is doing, then we'll review when I get back on shift tomorrow at 2PM. Terri could probably survive another three weeks flat on her back in order for Ellen to stay in and grow to full-term, which I would recommend if she was, say, presenting with these symptoms at 18 weeks but she is double that. If push came to shove, little Ellen could be born and she would have a "very* healthy prognosis. As it is, I'd like her to spend another week - at least - incubating inside Mom".

Caroline paused; "Unless of course there are more complications; in which case, Harm, I'll plan to induce her with a compound called Pitocin. It mimics the body's own oxytocin. Terri would still have a natural birth and either way there is *zip* additional risk to her foetus".

She looked reassuringly at Terri, who took her hand and nodded. As a qualified MD, Terri understood the situation, the risks and the likely outcomes. She was happy with the plan.

"OK Caroline, I'll lie back and wait. Harm, I need something to read to keep my brain from vegetating - please".

"And a set of nail clippers" muttered Harm to himself, recalling a conversation from several months before. He realised that, with a natural birth, Terri might be straining and pushing for a long time, which meant that his hands and arms were going to be part of her pain-relief. He smiled to himself - *those* scars he would proudly bear, as the price of his entry into the fatherhood club. From his birth on October 25th 1963, through the early loss of his father, Harm had been steadily preparing for this day, despite all the failed (and lost) loves. Fatherhood at the age of 35 seemed just a perfect next step in his life - and such a change from the dismal prospects which had faced him just one year before.

He debated whether to call anyone, then decided against - this was a very personal period of time for him and Terri, something that had been building since that incredible April night in Arizona. Then he realised - there was one dispassionate yet supportive person who had supported and encouraged him over the years.

Stepping into the lobby, he pulled out his cellphone and selected a number on the speed-dial; he realised that he needed to bring this person up to speed anyway, because of the work implications.

"Hello, Admiral, it's Rabb".

"Hello Mr Rabb and merry Christmas; what's on your mind on this fine evening?"

"Well sir, I may be about to become a father a few weeks ahead of schedule and this may affect my work attendance in Falls Church. Terri was admitted earlier today with elevated blood pressure and we're possibly looking at inducing the birth during the coming week, so we may be three or so weeks ahead of schedule".

"Well that is wonderful news; I recall that babies have a habit of arriving on their own schedule. I am also aware that I wasn't able to put in as much time as I would have wanted when Francesca was born - and that has always weighed on my conscience ever since. OK, keep me posted and call me on the first working day of the new year to review, if little Coulter-Rabb hasn't put in an appearance. I recall from an audit with Tiner recently that you have quite a slug of vacation days accrued, so don't worry unduly. I am sure that Major Mackenzie, LtCdr Imes and other colleagues can cover your workload in the early part of next year should it prove necessary. I shall alert the Major and the Commander to the possibility. Now, go be with your good lady - and remember that *she* is doing the hard work!"

"Thanks Admiral: you don't need to tell me twice. Rabb out". Harm terminated the call and walked back towards Terri's room. He felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, leaving him to concentrate exclusively on Terri's needs.

He was ready - whenever needed - to attend to her every requirement and whim. As he walked in, he realised that Teri looked relaxed. She had accepted the inevitability that, whatever was going to happen, she had little control over events but that she was in the hands of her fellow medics. She looked up and smiled at him.

"Harm, could you find some massage oil please?"

He smiled back, reached into the pocket of her go-bag and produced, with a flourish, a familiar bottle of massage oil.

"OK my lady, feet, ankles, calves or elsewhere?"

Terri flicked back the bedcovers and waggled her feet: "All the way to my knees, please Tomcat".

 **Wednesday, 30th December 1998 - 14:55hrs Local**

 ** **Maternity Unit, Methodist Le Bonheur Germantown Hospital****

 **Memphis Memorial Hospital,**

 **7691 Poplar Ave, Germantown, TN 38138**

"Right then Terri, we have good news; your BP is down a bit more, little Ellen is comfy so I'm going to leave you for another 24, keeping the four-hourly obs - OK?"

"Oh yeah Caroline, my manservant is perfectly aligned to meet my needs". Terri inclined her head to the left, pointing out a tall slumbering body jammed into a cot in the corner.

At some point during the night, one of the hospital porters had taken pity on Harm's contorted body as he tried to sit in one of the hard plastic hospital chairs; a spare cot had been wheeled in, which allowed Harm to get some rest - despite the incongruous sight of his legs dangling over the end of the cot with a pillow supporting his knees and preventing the circulation from being cut off!

Taking in the sight, Terri and Caroline sniggered quietly to themselves.

A gentle knock at the door announced the appearance of a heavy-set, well-dressed gentleman and a similar well-dressed woman who was carrying a lovely bouquet of flowers. Terri recognised them immediately and greeted them as old friends.

"Commissioner! Along with Mrs Commissioner! You've tracked me down". Stepping sideways, Caroline took the opportunity to slide out of the room and continue her rounds.

"It's Darlene please, Doctor Coulter and my husband has been singing your praises for some time (especially after that firework tragedy before Thanksgiving), so I have 'encouraged' him to pay you a visit and to bring me along as well. Is this sleeping giant your young man?"

"Yes Darlene - and please call me Terri. Yes, this is the source of all my troubles - my lovely fiancé, Commander Harmon Rabb of the US Navy JAG Corps in Falls Church up in Virginia".

Terri directed her voice at Harm's slumbering form in the cot. He began to stir. " _*HARM*_ "

The Commissioner placed the vase of water for the flowers (which he had brought with him) onto the table at the end of Terri's bed and extended his hand in greeting as Harm stood up, rubbing his eyes to gain alertness. "Commander Rabb, welcome to Memphis; I am the Commissioner of Police and I have to say that we are delighted that you are here to look after and support our favourite ME, who is a valued (and flexibly skilled) member of our police force. May I introduce my wife Darlene".

Harm and Darlene shook hands and Darlene gazed up into Harm's eyes then took the opportunity to look across to Terri. "Terri, this one's a keeper".

"Hell yes, don't I know that Darlene". She gestured to her swollen belly: "There is only one man that I would go through this for - and I have chosen him carefully". Terri gazed lovingly at Harm and he felt himself blushing under her adoring gaze.

"So Commander, JAG Corps? May I ask where your lawyering career may take you in the future? For instance, are you going to be whisking our best ME off to the Government in DC after she returns to work, or might we offer you a new life here in Tennessee, where I reckon it is a great state to raise your children?"

The offer from the Commissioner took the wind out of Harm's sails. "Wow, Commissioner I hadn't given *that* possibility any thought; I am a serving Naval officer and Terri is a Reserve officer. To be honest, we had tabled our discussion on the 'where' part of our future life together until after Ellen's birth, because this whole thing happened quite quickly". He smiled apologetically at the Commissioner.

"Well Commander, as a father I reckon your priority is correct - child and birth first then look after the parents. But here is my card, and Terri knows my PA's details - I would ask you to please do not make any final decisions about where the three of you will settle down without, at least, all of you dropping by for a coffee with Darlene, myself and the kids. Dr Coulter - your maternity leave is signed off, so please do not worry about the paperwork; we hold you in high esteem". They all shook hands and the Commissioner was gone, with Darlene waving a fond farewell as she followed him out into the corridor.

Harm looked at Terri in wonderment. "Wow Terri, you do have friends in high places; I hadn't even thought of moving here! And 'flexibly-skilled'?"

"Well Tomcat, Tennessee is a lovely state and it *is* away from the pressures of DC; might be worth a thought? Plus, I am a pretty fair ME, as you knew when you called me in for the Blackhorse case and I have worked on some kidnap cases with the FBI as well. You know, we do have some premier division law firms here and, my dear Tomcat, you're not gettin' any younger". She smiled and flashed her engagement ring at him.

"OK Terri, I promise that I shall think about the idea. Realistically, I should try to stay in the service for my twenty, so the pension and benefits would be good for our little family."

"Well, don't forget that, if you transferred to a Federal agency, your service clock would continue; I obviously don't want you to make decisions now Tomcat, but we certainly have options as we grow into a family."

"Terri, I like that word - _family_. How are you doing, anyway and did I miss anything whilst I slept?"

"Only little Ellen head-butting Mommy's bladder - she is now upside down and engaged ready for birth, so at least she isn't kicking my bladder anymore". Terri smiled: "you look tired Harm - why not go back to Millington and stretch out in a real bed? Trust me, I am a doctor and I know for sure when I say nothing will happen at less than an hour's notice".

"Yeah Terri, I'd trust you as a doctor but, as a lawyer, I feel honour-bound to point out that, by definition, all your patients are already dead!"

She laughed: "Look, I did a surgical and an OB/GYN rotation - so I definitely *do* know what I am talking about. Also, Caroline is one of Tennessee's finest OB/GYN consultants and I couldn't be in better hands for my first delivery".

They held hands and Harm nuzzled Terri's neck again. She sighed at the contact and relaxed once more into the bed, cradling the ever-growing bump where Ellie lay, steadily getting ready to join her parents.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Thursday, 31st December 1998 - 15:40hrs Local**

 ** **Maternity Unit, Methodist Le Bonheur Germantown Hospital****

 **Memphis Memorial Hospital,**

 **7691 Poplar Ave, Germantown, TN 38138**

Caroline completed her checks and smiled down at Terri. "Terri, your BP has levelled out over the last 24 - we'll maintain status and look at you again in another 24. How's your Tomcat doing?"

"He slept badly last night (he tells me), then he went home this morning to change, shave and shower. I must say that he does smell a lot better this afternoon and he had got himself caffeinated about two hours ago before he fell asleep - AGAIN!" The two MDs giggled, causing Harm to open one eye and glare across the room at them from his undersized cot.

"He's a pussy-cat really and I love him so much; I truly am blessed" said Terri, caressing her bump. "So Caroline, just a continuous day-by-day review for now?"

"Yes Terri, I believe that it is the best for the baby *and* in the best interests of Mom at this time. Are you OK with my rationale and approach - as if you have a vote?" Caroline smiled at her patient, who was nodding in agreement with Caroline and picking up her next book ready to start reading again.

"OK, see you in 24 - and Happy New Year". Caroline headed out to her next patient; Terri smiled sweetly at Harm.

"Oh darling massage man - your services are required".

Harm broke out the massage oil once more.

 **Friday, 1st January 1999 - 14:15hrs Local**

 ** **Maternity Unit, Methodist Le Bonheur Germantown Hospital****

 **Memphis Memorial Hospital,**

 **7691 Poplar Ave, Germantown, TN 38138**

"Right then Terri, you're in your 38th week now, so I am happy to induce you or leave you in Mother Nature's hands".

"OK Caroline, although I'm getting bored, I reckon that the best - OW!"

"Terri, what is it?"

"Remember that twinge from the other week, the one that brought me in here originally? Well, it's just happened again and - OW! OW! Oh my lord, that's all the way down my leg"!

"Let's get you stood up and mobilised; it's possible that little Ellen, although she's engaged in the birth canal, may be impinging on your sciatic nerve".

Caroline and a nurse helped Terri to sit up and swing her legs over the side of the bed. She had just straightened up and was buttoning her nightdress when she felt a trickle of warm liquid running down her leg.

"Caroline?"

"Yep?"

"I think my waters have just broken".

Caroline knelt down and had a quick look then gazed up into Terri's face with a huge smile.

"You know, for an ME you're pretty observant in the Obstetrics area, Terri. OK Mommy Doc, it's time to get you down to L&D for the hard work. let me round up a porter and a wheelchair. Stay on the dry piece of floor".

"OK, Caroline, will do. What about Harm?"

Caroline looked down at Harm - he had slept badly the night before and was stretched out in the cot. "Hey, Terri, he *does* look cute there!"

"We'd better not leave him behind here, although I am tempted - we'd never hear the end of his complaining" laughed Terri, as she waited for the porter and a wheelchair.

"OK, I shall pop into L&D to see you downstairs in a couple of hours, but have me paged if the contractions get to less than 15 minutes apart".

 **Friday, 1st January 1999 - 23:52hrs Local**

 ** **Labour & Delivery suite, Maternity Unit, Methodist Le Bonheur Germantown Hospital****

 **Memphis Memorial Hospital,**

 **7691 Poplar Ave, Germantown, TN 38138**

"Come on Terri, you're doing well; just one more push and three, two, one - bear down". Caroline was encouraging, supportive and, to Terri's mind, just a little bit dictatorial. But in fairness, this baby was ready to come out and there is - usually - only one route available.

Terri concentrated once more on her task. Harm winced once more and tried not to cry as her talons ripped into his bare, defenceless hands. " _Next child, I'm definitely getting those gauntlets_ " he promised himself.

Terri's screams took on a sharper chord and continued for longer, finally fading away into a whimper as the first cry of a newborn infant greeted the cooler air in the delivery room after the warmth of the cocoon inside her mother where little Ellen Patricia Diana Caitlin Coulter had spent the entire first phase of her short life so far.

"OK, you have a lovely girl as expected, 6lbs 3oz; birth time 23:53hrs, Friday 1st January 1999; Happy New Year everyone!" A quick check and then a tired Caroline Hickson was placing Ellen on Terri's chest, where new Mom greeted new arrival.

"Hello you - so you're the one who's been ruining my figure and giving me back pain, are you?" Terri snuggled her baby and looked up into Harm's adoring eyes. "Proud father" barely scratched the surface of the emotions on display in Harm's face. He was captivated by the mother and baby pairing in front of him.

Little Ellen was, of course, oblivious to the chaos which she had inflicted on the lives of those around her. She just blew a mucous-laden bubble and closed her eyes.

"OK Daddy, would you like to cut the cord? Right - just there between the two clamps; well done. Right, now if you would stay out of my way, with Mom at the top of the bed please? I have a few bits to attend to down here and - trust me - you do *not* want to be watching me, so enjoy your new family whilst I ensure that Mom's post-delivery is clean and the after-birth is problem-free".

Harm nestled close to Terri and kissed her forehead while she concentrated on Ellen. Terri sighed and cuddled Ellen. "I can't believe that she is finally here. Hey Caroline?".

Caroline's head popped up, looking up the length of Teri's body with a smile. "Yes Terri?"

"A quick check; is all OK down there doc?"

"Yep 'doc'; clean afterbirth, perfect placenta and no stitches needed". Caroline raised a thumb in the traditional sign and Terri relaxed, concentrating on her newborn baby.

"Oh thank the lord for that; so I'll just impersonate John Wayne walking round for a few days whilst I heal and recover". Terri was playing up her cowgirl heritage as she comforted Ellen on her chest and welcomed her new daughter to the world. She reached out a hand for Harm - he was instantly there.

"Look Tomcat; this is what *we* have made; isn't she wonderful?"

"Yes, indeed she is; and thank you darling for all *your* hard work - including the five months when you didn't tell me"; he glared briefly into Terri's eyes before melting into his high-power, full-width naval aviator smile.

"Harm, California is two hours behind us, am I right?"

"Yes, Pacific Time versus Central Time - oh, should I phone Mom?"

"Yes of course; although my mom isn't here with us, your mom deserves to know, as soon as you can, that she is now a grandmother" She paused, thought and then continued; "Oh, and if they want to come across to Tennessee, I'd welcome help from around January 10th when you're due to head back to DC - not that I am hinting!"

Harm headed once more out into the entrance lobby in search of decent cell-phone coverage, where three cars were disgorging expectant mothers in various stages of delivery; even at the late hour, the obstetrics staff were ready to greet them and wheel them off for attention in L&D. Selecting the phone number for La Jolla, he pressed "send" and raised the phone to his ear.

"Hello Harm - isn't it a bit late there in DC?"

"Well Mom, I'm actually only in Tennessee, not DC, so we are only two hours ahead of you, but I thought it important to speak to my daughter's grandmother as soon as possible and to give her the news".

" **FRANK!** get over here - I'm a grandmother!" Trish Burnett was ecstatic at the news; she had waited for many years and through several of Harm's girlfriends (plus the tragedy of Diane) without sign of any Rabb offspring; now her son had finally done the deed. "Harmon, I am so pleased for you; when will we see you and what names are you choosing?"

"Well, in reverse order, we have welcomed Miss Ellen Patricia Diana Caitlin Coulter into the world at 23:53hrs - just before midnight. In terms of work, I am still with JAG based in DC and that will continue (based on our current plans). Terri will, after the birth, start looking for roles in DC as well but in the interim she'll be living here in Memphis - and if you could spare some time to visit and assist because I will have to get back to DC, she'll need help from a week on Sunday - that's January 10th. Any help is gratefully received and, of course, it will give you a chance to get to know your future daughter-in-law. I've also had an oblique job offer to move to Memphis, so the opportunities are open at the moment".

There was a quiet pause on the line from California, as Trish Burnett digested the meaning of Harm's last sentence. "OK, consider it done - we'll call you around 4pm our time tomorrow on your cell once more - which would be 6pm Saturday evening in Memphis. Now, go be with your daughter and her mom".

"Will do; love you Mom, please say hi to Frank".

"I will do that, son - and enjoy your turn at the sleepless nights".

 **Saturday, 2nd January 1999 - 10:45hrs Local**

 ** **Maternity Unit, Methodist Le Bonheur Germantown Hospital****

 **Memphis Memorial Hospital,**

 **7691 Poplar Ave, Germantown, TN 38138**

"Good morning Tomcat - do you want to take over and change our daughter?" Terri pointed to the diaper bag in the corner.

"Yep, my pleasure; hand her over". Although Harm had, of necessity, missed out on the early father preparation sessions, he had been reading up on his fatherly duties. His first, major, practical test lay ahead.

"Right then Ellen, this is Daddy's first time, so please lay still".

Caroline had popped back in for a scheduled check on mother and baby, so she watched Harm's efforts at the diaper change and eventually awarded him seven out of ten - " _Not bad for a newbie_ " she laughed.

"OK Terri, so long as your BP has been stable for 24 hours, we'd be able to discharge you later tomorrow if that works?" Harm and Terri looked at each other, did a quick bit of non-verbal communication and then nodded their agreement. Terri gave Caroline a thumbs-up signal.

"OK, I shall get the paperwork under way ready for your discharge. We also have the paperwork for registering the birth - Terri, I have put *your* home address down as the address for the certificate".

"Thanks Caroline, that will be perfect".

"All part of the service, 'doc'. Remember that you'll need to get Ellie registered with your local health centre".

She smiled and headed off to the next patient on her rounds.

Harm and Terri wrapped their bodies around their new (and freshly-diapered) little lady.

"Terri?"

"Yes darling Tomcat?"

"She is just perfect - thank you for making my life complete".

They kissed, gently, above the head of their new baby.

"Now, shall we start a list of tasks for Mom and Frank when they call us tonight?".

 **Sunday 3rd January 1999 - 16:45hrs Local**

 **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road**

 **Millington, TN 38053**.

"OK, here we are home: welcome back, mommy soon-to-be-Mrs Rabb".

"Oh thank you darling - for everything, including not complaining when I revealed my condition suddenly and explained everything to you at the five month point".

He took her in his arms and kissed her gently.

"Teresa Ellen Coulter, with our little girl you make me complete, so I could never complain; thank you for everything - even that wonderful surprise three months ago!"

As Teresa settled on the couch to start feeding Ellen, Harm assembled a quick shopping list and headed out to the store; he intended to establish a principle of home-cooked food whilst he was in Tennessee, then to continue that principle once Terri had relocated to DC.

" _Or wherever the Coulter-Rabb family ends up_ ", he realised as an afterthought.

 **Monday 4th January 1999 - 11:45hrs Local (12:45hrs in DC)**

 **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road**

 **Millington, TN 38053**.

"Good morning Tiner, it's LtCdr Rabb; I am still down in Memphis on vacation and I need to speak with, or schedule a time to speak with, the Admiral sometime today ideally".

"Hold on Sir, I just took him his coffee so he should be interruptible; wait please".

Within 30 seconds, Harm was talking with his CO.

"Well sir, the good news is that little Ellen has arrived, Terri and Ellen are at home, Ellen is feeding well, our sleep patterns are shot but my Mom is flying in from California on Sunday, so I reckon - with your agreement and approval and blessing - to return to work on Tuesday morning the 12th. I haven't caught up with my Mom (or Frank) since Saturday, plus Terri and Mom have never actually met, so I'd like the former Mrs Rabb Snr and the future Mrs Coulter-Rabb to get to know each other for 24hours with me within earshot before I leave them alone."

He sat back and waited for the Admiral to make his mind up, on the other end of the telephone line.

AJ smiled: "That sounds eminently sensible. Go enjoy your new baby and say "hi" to your Mom. OK Mister Rabb, report in here for 08:00hrs a week tomorrow and have fun in the meantime; enjoy these days son, because my generation didn't have this and I reckon we missed out. Now, if you find that you need more time beyond Monday night, simply call me on Friday before 13:00hrs DC time, otherwise I'll start lining up work for you for Tuesday morning Staff Call".

"Understood and will do if needed. Thank you, Admiral, once again". Harm closed the call and slid his phone back into his pocket.

He checked in on Terri who was just swapping a hungry Ellen from one breast to the other, went into the kitchen to pour himself a coffee and make a cup of tea for Terri (Terri had decided to stay off the coffee whilst she was breastfeeding baby Ellen) and then picked up the phone to call California, where he reckoned that breakfast should be complete with a local time of 09:45hrs.

"Burnett residence".

"Hey Mom; we are all safely home in Millington".

"Oh that is great news Harm; are you guys all set for us arriving on Sunday?"

"Yes please Mom; I've got vacation time off until Monday night (a week from today) but then I need to report into Falls Church next Tuesday morning. With you coming on Sunday, I'll book my flights to DC for Monday afternoon and we can all have most of a day together here, once you fly across on Sunday morning".

"Sounds like a plan; oh, Frank will be coming as well, so don't worry if you have some chores hanging around - it will do him good if you just leave him a list. We're due in from SAN at around 3pm on Sunday".

"OK Mom, over here we are settling back into the home so we'll start on a list for Frank. We'll talk on Saturday ahead of your departure, so enjoy your rest this week - the hard work starts on Sunday".

"Look after your lovely lady, my son".

 ****** ** **END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase five** **\- "Parenthood 1999" **** **

**TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR **.****


	6. Somebody's child

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 6 - parts 8 and 9)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole A/N.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Phase Six of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Somebody's Child"**

A/N 13-05-2018: Decisions: Harm and Terri, settling down after Ellen's birth, need to make decisions on where they will live in the longer term. Needless to say, Harm has problems making a decision, then a troubling case affects them both! In part, this is an AU re-imagining of S04EP17 "Nobody's Child", touching on S04EP18 "Shakedown" and re-imagining Terri's involvement, as Harm's wife, in S04EP24 "Goodbyes".

A/N: Set in my 1998-originating AU where Harm and Terri got together after S03Ep21 "The Return of Jimmy Blackhorse", have a small daughter Ellen ("Ellie") and are about to marry.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Part eight - "Nobody's Child".**

 **Monday 4th January 1999 - 19:45hrs Local**

 **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road**

 **Millington, TN 38053**.

"Harm, that was a lovely meal. I know we only have a week before your parents arrive, but this just feels nice".

Terri reached out a hand for him and they embraced, walking across the room and then snuggling down on the large sofa in her living room.

"I think..."

Whatever Terri thought was lost forever, drowned out by the hungry wail from the nursery (or 'Terri's second bedroom' as it had been known prior to baby Ellen's arrival).

"Hold on darling, I'll bring her to you - I can at least be the one to carry her, even if you're the only one equipped to feed her".

Harm brought baby Ellen down into the lounge, where Terri checked the baby's diaper, smiled and then began the routine unbuttoning of her blouse so that Ellen could latch on and feed once more.

"Harm, we are definitely weaning her before she grows any teeth (which is about six months), let me assure you of this" Terri informed him. "Now, once she has taken what she needs, I'll start to express so that you'll have enough milk to do the 2AM feed".

Harm watched in fascination as Ellen suckled, growled, grizzled, burped and eventually waved a hand at her mother's breast to signify that she was (for the time being) sated.

"Let me burp her, darling?" he offered, placing a towel over his shoulder.

Terri smiled at him and nodded, handed Ellen across then picked up the breast pump to start drawing the milk for the first night-time feed.

"Once she's dressed, if you put her down for a sleep I will leave her milk in the fridge for you. Then, my dear Tomcat, it's hot chocolate and bed for us".

The two new parents sank into Terri's bed, listening to the contented murmurings which were issuing from the baby monitor on Terri's bedside unit. They had arranged to alternate the nights with Ellen's crib alongside their bed (to facilitate Terri's feeding of Ellen) and nights with the crib in the next room. The jury was still out on the best arrangement. All too soon, the time of the next feed would draw round, disturbing their sleep pattern once more; this cycle was now part of their new sleep pattern - the sleep pattern of newly-qualified parents. With the joy of their new arrival still fresh in their minds, Harm and Terri were certain that they wouldn't have it any other way.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Tuesday 5th January 1999 - 06:38hrs Local**

 **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road**

 **Millington, TN 38053**.

"Morning Harm, it's past half six - did you do the feed?"

"Yes, both of them, but she waited until 02:25hrs before she started to grizzle, then again at 04:35, so she has only had two feeds but stayed quiet for the rest of the night; I'm going to use the third bottle now, so you lie in and relax."

"Nice try Tomcat, but my boobs are telling me that I have ' _a need to feed_ '; so leave the remaining expressed milk in the fridge and could you bring me Ellen please? She can have her breakfast freshly delivered". Terri smiled up at Harm and he skipped into Ellen's room to bring their new little miracle in to her mother for the breakfast feed.

Some time later, Harm brought in a breakfast tray with fruit juice, freshly-sliced fruit and two bowls of oatmeal. Terri tucked into her share and then announced that, to avoid crumbs in the bed, she would shower and get dressed, ready for the day, before she moved onto the toast and butter, down in the kitchen.

"OK Terri; let me know when you want the tea. I'm going to get the first load of laundry under way".

"Good idea Tomcat. Then, while we are both here at home, we'll start on a list for Frank, to keep him busy while he's over here with Trish".

"Terri, I've been thinking; I know we talked through possible nicknames for our daughter. As I fed her during the night, I came to the conclusion that 'Ellie' is just so right. But that is only my opinion - what do you think?"

"You know, Tomcat, I was thinking the same". Terri leaned across and tickled Ellie's tummy affectionately. "OK, Miss Ellie, we now have your family name".

Ellie, as was becoming her habit, merely smiled and gurgled.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Sunday 10th January 1999 - 16:10hrs Local**

 **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road**

 **Millington, TN 38053**.

"Harm, they're here!"

Harm stepped out into the driveway to assist Frank with the suitcases. First out of the hired car, Trisha Burnett headed towards the house, ignoring her son in her enthusiasm to see her first grandchild. Harm had worried that she might be concerned about the absence of a wedding ring on Terri's finger - he needn't have worried. Trisha only had eyes for Ellie.

Harm helped Frank with collecting the suitcases from the trunk of the rented Chrysler while Terri, with Ellen in her arms, walked from the porch to greet Trisha. Harm was pleased that Terri and his mom had hit it off from the first moment, given the warmth with which they hugged. The two women formed an instant attraction, so Harm and Frank merely followed their respective women into Terri's house. Harm took Frank - with the suitcases - up to the guest room, pointed out the bathroom and then the two men re-grouped in the kitchen, where Harm made a pot of real coffee (which was Frank's guilty secret as Trisha tried to reduce his caffeine intake in deference to his heart) and prepared a pot of tea.

Harm had already announced that he would be pouring the coffee into mugs in the kitchen (with a sly wink at Frank) before he brought everything through to the lounge, to reduce Terri's pining for her forbidden coffee during the duration of her breast-feeding Ellen. "Oh stuff and nonsense" exclaimed Trisha on hearing that Terri was depriving herself of coffee; "I was drinking coffee all the way through the period when I was breastfeeding Harm, and he hasn't come to any sticky end has he?"

Once everyone else was settled in the lounge, Harm had brought the drinks into the lounge. Trisha was already bouncing Ellen on her knee, whilst Terri relaxed on the settee alongside her.

The first " _meet the in-laws_ " session for Terri was pronounced a success; the two women quickly established a list of tasks which would keep Frank busy for a fortnight whilst Harm was back in DC, which Frank took in good humour as he got to know his new grand-daughter and his future daughter-in-law. That night, Harm slept peacefully and contentedly, with another hurdle overcome on the route to a happy family. Ellen helpfully slept quietly in her crib alongside Terri's side of the bed.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Monday 11th January 1999 - 02:34hrs Local**

 **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road**

 **Millington, TN 38053**.

Little Ellen called for her food at 02:34hrs and Harm was slightly surprised to find Trisha in the kitchen when he went down to warm the bottle of expressed milk which Terri had produced earlier that evening.

"Well, my big happy son, I only have one question" announced Trisha as Harm tested the temperature of the warmed milk before preparing to take it to feed Ellen.

"And what's that, Mom?"

"Why didn't you meet Terri earlier? She is fabulous, a great mother, whip-smart intellectually (even now, just 11 or so days after giving birth and with obvious sleep-deprivation). This one is a keeper, son". She smiled and placed an affectionate hand on his arm.

Harm paused and looked at her. "Yeah Mom, I know and I am so happy; I hope that you noticed the engagement ring? Even though the conception was a little unusual, the idea of fatherhood with Terri has been such a strong attraction for me that I would never have considered saying *no*. Plus, she made a play for me at the end of our first ever case together, on the last night in Arizona after cracking the case. So she didn't hang around long before she had me!".

"So, how will you be deciding where to live?"

"Well Mom, so far Terri - who has no family ties apart from a father serving life in Leavenworth for killing her mother - is quite flexible on where to work. I think I need to allow her to make some plans, before we actually make the big decision. We have had an informal offer from the Memphis Commissioner of Police for me to come and work in Tennessee, plus I am investigating Federal agencies up in DC to potential roles for Her Ladyship. We need to sort that out before we make decisions on which house will be our family home. I've purchased a family home ready in DC and will move there, from the apartment, during this month. This leaves us with good options in either district - but it's Terri's decision at the end of the day. She has already given me the greatest gift - fatherhood at a time when I was beginning to think that I would never have a child of my own".

"Well, my son, one thing that you will not need to worry about is money". Frank had joined them in the spacious kitchen. "Harm, what we have never told you is that we built and maintained a college fund for you, which (and I say so myself with considerable pride!) has been carefully and skilfully managed to reach a total of some three million dollars. Your mom and I were unsuccessful in creating children, so you are our sole beneficiary - although we shall add specific bequests for Terri and your children once you are married. So please do not worry about affordability when house-hunting - wherever that may be".

"Wow, I can kill off the mortgage. As the money is condition-free, I could make Terri's life easier *if* she wants to extend her maternity leave beyond the state maximum - which might make her life a bit easier whilst she is nursing Ellie. She plans to wean Ellie at six months. It looks like babies tend to wean (and grow their first teeth) from six months onwards; I'd like her to have no money worries until the seven months are up, say the start of August. This also enables us to have a good extended debate about where to live and when to move".

"Hmm - be careful how you broach that subject son".

"What subject is that?" Terri emerged into the light of the kitchen, blinking like some bleary-eyed pink Gremlin as her eyes focussed. "Sorry Harm, the bed was getting cold". She pulled her dressing gown tightly around herself.

"I was bouncing some ideas for housing off my parents - and *not* hiding them from you - Mom and Frank just raised a useful asset for me to use - my unused college fund is a bit bigger than I could ever have expected".

Terri caressed his arm, then headed for the tea-bag holder. "I knew there was a good reason for me getting involved with you, Tomcat" she smiled, producing the baby monitor from her dressing gown pocket and placing it on the kitchen table.

The impromptu " _middle of the night_ " conversation broke up about ten minutes later, with everyone tidying up their immediate area before heading back to their beds. Harm fed, winded and checked Ellen before returning to his side of the joint bed.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Monday 11th January 1999 - 14:10hrs Local**

 **Home of Teresa Coulter, 78xx Hickory Meadow Road**

 **Millington, TN 38053**.

"Harm, safe flights". Terri, Ellen and his mother formed a circle around Harm to wish him good fortune. Frank stood by with the hire car to run him to the airport terminal.

"Thanks guys - Terri, I'll phone when I arrive back in DC". With a start, Harm realised that he was already not thinking of the loft in DC as his home.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Monday, 11th January 1999 - 15:37hrs EST**

 **Passenger Terminal - Departures - Memphis International Airport (MEM)**

 **2491 Winchester Rd # 113, Memphis, TN 38116**

Harm picked up his bag from the trunk of Frank's rental and leaned into the car through the open passenger window to shake hands.

"Thanks for everything, Pop - including the last 25 years".

Frank smiled back. "You've made your mother very happy - and I endorse your choice for the mother of your child (even if it was she who actually chose you, you have done very well). We look forward to many more visits; safe flights".

Harm stepped back, handing his case and airline ticket to the kerbside check-in agent as he waved a last farewell to Frank's car as it merged into the never-ending flow of vehicles past the terminal. He expected to be home before midnight.

A thought occurred to him; what constitutes "home"? He pondered this as he purchased a pre-flight shot of bourbon at one of the terminal's variety of bars.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Monday, 11th January 1999 - 22:52hrs EST**

 **Home of Harmon Rabb, North of Union Station**

 **Washington DC**.

Harm arrived home at the end of a long day; the flight had landed smoothly and his luggage had found him without delay. He was just glad to be back in a space that was his, ready to face a return to work at JAG after three weeks away during which time, he smiled to himself as he thought back, he had become a father. His mailbox was almost full, mainly junk mail and leaflets he noticed.

" _Hi honey I'm home_ " Harm called out to an empty apartment. The small carrier bag of catering essentials, which he had purchased at the convenience store during his taxi-ride back from the airport, was distributed between the fridge and the pantry. The usual familiar faint musty smell of a closed-up apartment met his nose; at least in the winter, it wasn't as bad as the height of summer, he had to admit. The background heating setting was sufficient to avoid the risk of frozen pipes through the winter when he was away. Faced with the alternatives of opening the windows in the middle of winter or just living with the aroma, Harm chose warmth as he turned up the heating then warmed some milk and dialled Terri's landline. She answered on the second ring, informing him that she, Frank and Trisha were all settled on the sofa to watch the 10pm Memphis news now that Ellie was down and sleeping well.

Sleep claimed Harm relatively soon after his head hit the pillow. Sleep deprivation, hot chocolate, his own large-scale custom-built bed and the second shot of bourbon (consumed on the flight) all conspired to assist his relaxed descent into slumber.

The Tuesday morning return to work went smoothly, with a half-hour of congratulations followed by the thud as a pile of cases hit his desk.

Over the next five weeks, Harm's workload would permit him only one round trip, at the end of January, to Memphis. Frank and Trisha stayed on with Terri and Ellen until the end of January before returning to California. Terri was very grateful for their help, but as Ellie's intervals between feeding began to stretch, she had found herself wondering if the exclusivity of having the house to herself for an undisturbed night's sleep might outweigh the benefits of having two experienced babysitters on hand.

Then, in late February, a case landed in Harm's lap which was to stretch his sanity, as a new father, to its breaking point.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Wednesday, 24th February 1999 - 08:59hrs EST**

 **Conference Room, JAG HQ, Falls Church. VA**.

"Admiral on deck".

"As you were, thank you people. OK, Commander Rabb, as a new father could you comfortably handle a case involving a dead five-year-old child on the old Potomac Naval annexe?"

"Err, yes Admiral, I believe that I can". The file sailed across the long conference table to land in front of Harm. Across the table, Mac smiled sympathetically at him as he picked up the folder and skip-read the slim (two-page) opening file.

"Folks, has anyone worked with NCIS Agent Holland?"

Silence and regretful expressions around the table told their own story. The morning Staff Call continued to its conclusion. Back in his office, as Harm picked up the phone to arrange a pool car, Mac stuck her head round the doorframe of his office. "Need a hand with this dead child case, Harm?"

"Actually Mac, yes please - I'd welcome your intuition on this; however it is just possible that I am wasting your time."

"No worries - it will give me a chance to catch up with you on the gossip and how you are adapting to parenthood". She smiled: despite Harm obviously choosing Teresa Coulter as the mother of his child and his wife-to-be, Mac still enjoyed the companionship of her "Flyboy" and also valued his counsel and judgment during cases. From his rapid acceptance of her offer of assistance, Mac was comforted that Harm still felt the same way.

Heading out towards the motor pool, the legal duo continued chatting nonchalantly as they walked.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Wednesday, 24th February 1999 - 10:14hrs EST**

 **Military Aviation Museum complex, Potomac Naval Annex**

 **Washington DC**

 ****DC Police and NCIS joint attendance at death site**

"So what's the deal on this site, Mac?"

"The Navy's donating the site for a civilian authority to run a museum, but clearing down any loose military hardware before they hand over to the City sometime in the coming month".

Harm sighed: "OK, so it's under our purview for another few weeks. Great, no way of dodging this one. Aha, I reckon that's NCIS over there".

A frozen-looking African-American woman spotted their uniforms and waved them across. After introducing themselves to Agent Holland, the NCIS agent led them into a storage block and through to the bathroom at the rear of the block, where a coat covered the still, lifeless, crumpled body of a child who looked to be aged between three and four, judging from her size.

Mac watched Harm's face intently as he took in the bruising and damage to the body. As he stood up, he looked angry.

"Cause of death?"

"Undetermined at present; our NCIS ME is backed up, so it might take a while as the DC Police ME is slated to run the autopsy". Agent Holland looked apologetic, but she was also - like any human - torn between the need to continue investigating and the need to get out of the bitter wind which was whipping around their ankles. Mac was beginning to feel similarly exposed, having eschewed trousers for her customary skirt that morning.

She conferred with Detective Warden as she handed over a small evidence bag: "We found this USN Master Chief insignia with the body". The two JAG investigators and the NCIS agent looked closely at the bloodied insignia. "Well, that gives me a Navy flavour to this case" observed Agent Holland. Mac and Harm nodded their agreement.

Detective Warden came to a decision: "The base transfer doesn't take place until the 17th of next month. Happy to leave NCIS with this one". He backed away, rounding up his "troops" to remove the DC Police presence on the site.

Harm turned to Mac: "Mac, I'm going to stay on; I'll get Agent Holland to run me back". He looked across to Agent Holland, who was within ear-shot.

Agent Holland saw no problem and so she promised to stick around to check the site further. After an exchange of business cards, Mac headed back, thereby leaving Harm to make one last sweep of the area with Agent Holland before they stood down to await the arrival of the DC ME, after which time she would drive him back to the Navy Yard. Harm looked back at the building which housed the child's corpse; Agent Holland spotted his expression.

The experienced NCIS agent leaned in and gave Harm a piece of advice: "Don't get personal with this one, Commander - it will eat you alive".

"Sorry Agent Holland, but my new daughter is only seven weeks old; kindly allow me the motivation of caring like a new father, if you will?"

She nodded her understanding, but placed her gloved hand on his forearm: "Within limits, Commander - take care on this one".

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Wednesday, 24th February 1999 - 1842ZULU (23:42hrs EST)**

 **Office of the Medical Examiner**

 **Washington DC**

During the evening, Harm shadowed Dr Vaughn - DC Chief Medical Examiner - from 1842ZULU onwards. The ME's bored tone listed off the massive list of injuries and damage to the little child's body, which was also " _under-developed, poorly-nourished, weighs 36lbs_ ".

Harm informed Vaughn that he would wait through the night for the autopsy report.

Vaughn fixed his view on Harm, over the rims of his reading glasses.

"What does this kid mean to you, that you're willing to spend the night?"

"Someone has to, Doctor Vaughn". Harm settled into a chair for a potentially long night.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Wednesday, 24th February 1999 - 08:59hrs EST**

 **Conference Room, JAG HQ, Falls Church. VA**.

"*HOW* much sugar, Mac?!".

The next morning, Harm and Mac were catching up over the first coffee of the day when Harm paused and then smiled to himself as Mac loaded sugar into her cup.

Mac noticed Harm brighten - what she referred to as one of Harm's "lightbulb moments" - as he headed back to his office and picked up the phone on his desk. Mac leaned on the door frame, watching Harm in action on a case which evidently motivated him.

"Agent Holland, please have the DC Coroner release the body to you; I'm bringing somebody in; please check whether your ME would be offended if we TAD in an ME from USN Reserves to assist, just with this case - in the interests of speedy closure".

Mac looked at him, then the penny dropped. "Terri for the autopsy, then a weekend of house-hunting? Hey, good move Flyboy - *and* on the Navy's dollar!"

Harm smiled and picked up the phone again, dialling a number from memory.

The phone was answered promptly - Terri had not long finished breakfast, as a result of little Ellen requiring a feed at 05:00hrs that particular morning.

"Hey Tomcat, how ya doin?" her cheery mood changed as she heard the serious tone in his voice.

"Look darling, there is no easy way for me to say this, but I feel confident in asking for your assistance to run an second-opinion autopsy up here in DC". He paused.

Terri thought for a moment, then smiled. "So, a bit of work - which will pay me - then a weekend with you in the apartment, then a chance to meet up with your friends in Falls Church. Hell, yes please count me in. I presume that it is the DC ME who has produced a sub-optimal result, because you would never ever need me to second-guess Ducky Mallard at NCIS".

"Well done - got it in one, Terri. Yeah it was Doctor ' _couldn't give a rat's ass_ ' Vaughn. However, there is one thing that you should know, going in; the victim is a malnourished child, around age four. We have a hearse on standby and we'll arrange a hop for you from NAS Millington tomorrow afternoon if you can work that schedule". Harm wanted Terri to have her eyes open going in.

"No problem Tomcat; this time around, you and I will have each other for support; oh, please say hi to Mac when you see her".

"Will do; funnily enough, she is standing here in my doorway with a coffee. Safe trip; I'll pick you up at Andrews".

Hanging up, he looked at Mac and smiled: "My fiancée says hi".

She smiled, placed his coffee on his desk, popped a finger-tip salute in his direction, then headed back to her office.

Her unshed tears were not noticed by anyone. " _He's gone, and that's an end to it_ " she thought to herself.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Thursday 25th February 1999 - 21:47hrs EST (02:27** **ZULU** **Friday )**

 **Military Aviation Terminal; Andrews Air Force Base, **Washington DC****

The following evening, Terri (with Ellen in her porta-crib and a large rolling suitcase of baby essentials as well as her personal luggage), stepped from the C-130 at 21:47hrs at Andrews AFB. The Loadmaster handed the large cases to Harm and nodded. Constrained as they both were by their uniforms, a gentle hand-wave had to suffice as a greeting between Harm and Terri.

She looked him square in the eyes: "This dead child case that you've brought me in for. We'll do it my way - understood? You and I had some success last time, but you know I have my own way of doing things".

"Terri, this is a messy case".

"That is part of my job description as an ME in MPD and the USN reserves, Tomcat, despite being on mat leave. I may be upset by what I see, but I shall be professional throughout - which is what you need, Harm".

"I do, Commander - that's why I need you on this case - wherever it leads us".

"OK Harm. Let's roll. But first, bed. Ellie needs to feed and sleep, I need to detach this C-130 from my butt and then start tomorrow with a good night of sleep behind me. This dead girl can wait in the mortuary, so I can do her justice with a fresh mind in the morning".

Nothing in Terri's logic caused Harm a problem. Terri's few possessions, along with Ellen's essentials, were quickly stowed neatly inside Harm's apartment. Terri and Harm surveyed the apartment, then Terri turned to Harm.

"Tell me again, Tomcat; when are we finishing our house-hunting?"

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Friday 26th February 1999 - 01:34ZULU Saturday (20:24hrs local Friday)**

 **Military Naval Hospital Bethesda MD.**

Terri concluded the autopsy and continued dictating her notes; Harm stepped out briefly and returned with two cups of coffee. Terri smiled gratefully and sipped hers, then handed him her cup. "Hold that for me, I need to express. Would you like the main points first, because I am so angry I need to calm down before I feed Ellie?"

"Yes, of course Terri; whatever works for you".

Terri embarked on her summary, finishing with the three main points for the prosecution case (which Harm would be writing up, in partnership with Agent Holland of NCIS).

1."Her ribs were broken, she couldn't run away".

2."Her strength would have been sapped; instead of crying out, she could probably do no more than... bleat".

3."You want to know why that child died alone - or, more accurately, was found alone - don't you?"

Harm nodded; Terri headed off to the medics' lounge to express some milk for Ellie's later feed then returned, put the milk into the ( _staff, not mortuary_ , she reminded herself!) fridge as Harm re-heated her coffee in the microwave, signed off the paperwork for this second autopsy after what she politely (and professionally) described as " _a bare-minimum, half-assed, eyes-closed, piss-poor bit of butchery_ " for the original autopsy carried out by Dr Vaughn.

She would continue later the next day, analysing stomach contents and the like, along with checking for drugs, with Dr Bruce Gadsden on the Saturday.

"Harm, for now, take me home and hold me. Oh, you'll obviously have Ellie along as well".

The next day, Terri would see something under her microscope which would push the case in a different direction.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Wednesday, 3rd March 1999 - 08:59hrs EST**

 **Conference Room, JAG HQ, Falls Church. VA**.

"Admiral on deck".

"OK Commander Rabb: where are we on the dead child case?"

Harm provided an update, summarising both the initial and then Terri's subsequent autopsy findings.

Agent Holland was carrying out thrice-daily checks with the Centre for Missing and Exploited Children. Nothing had popped up on her searches.

As she arrived with Harm at the department of Social Services, Terri sensed a strong female majority in the room and decided to join in; she whispered "follow my lead and stay subservient" to Harm as she stepped in front of him to enter the room first. Turning her engagement ring round (thus displaying a simple gold band on her finger), she placed her open hand flat on Harm's arm and stepped deliberately ahead of him to engage with the supervisor. Harm held back - happy to trust his fiancée to get the best result out of "the Sisterhood". Shortly afterwards and having gained the trust of the female team members, Terri saw the supervisor leave the Lewis family file on the edge of the desk, with a meaningful look at Terri as she went "for a coffee".

Subsequently, Harm's investigations would reveal, via Social Services, the existence of a twin sister and that Annie and her sister had "fallen through a crack" in the child-care system. Terri's anger at the system was tempered by the immense workload face by the Social Services team, but she was determined to save the other child. Now they had names for the girls - Annie (deceased) and Dar-Lin Lewis (missing).

Harm and Bud went on the prowl to chase up witnesses; their hunt hit pay-dirt, in the shape of William Randall Hawkins.

During the interrogation of William Randall Hawkins, Terri conferred with Mac and Harm in the viewing gallery. She was perplexed: "There was something in my analysis of the digestive system which I didn't understand until now. I found about 10ccs of paper pulp in the child's stomach and intestines. That didn't make sense to me. Unless she was locked away somewhere and that's how she kept herself alive - eating cardboard". She looked through the viewing window at Hawkins, then shook her head: "The man in there doesn't have that kind of hatred in his soul".

Harm looked back into the room, where Hawkins was sitting. "Yeah Terri, that's as may be, but I need to find out what he knows".

Mac volunteered: "Want me in there with you?"

Harm replied: "Why, are you afraid of what I might do?"

Mac snorted derisively: "No, I'm afraid of what *I* might do". Terri placed a restraining hand on each shoulder, holding the "Dynamic Duo" back. Harm and Mac nodded to Terri, signifying that her message was received.

The Harm/Mac double act was truly a sight to behold, Terri had to acknowledge. Eventually Hawkins gave up the Tubman Projects as the site where he had seen a little girl who matched Harm's line drawing of the corpse.

 **End of Part eight "Nobody's Child".**

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Part nine - "Somebody's Child".**

 **Wednesday, 3rd March 1999 - 21:32 Zulu (16:32hrs EST)**

 **Tubman Projects housing area**.

Harm went door-to-door, eventually striking gold. The woman admitted knowing the children. Harm's heart leapt at the mention of "children", because it was possible that Annie's sister was still alive!

Harm and Terri worked well together, eventually tracing the grandmother's house and recovering Dar-Lin. On the road up, Harm had opened up about his former relationship with Jordi Parker, the Navy psychiatrist whom he had defended (and saved) one Christmas. As they stopped for coffee on the road, Terri realised what Harm was trying to tell her. "Annie Lewis - she speaks to you?"

"Yes, but not in words".

When they reached the house and Harm shouldered his way in, they rapidly found the room where Annie had been held. Terri spotted evidence on the wall and brought out her small forensic kit from her Navy raincoat. The atmosphere in the house was giving her the creeps. As a new mother, Terri kept thinking of her own baby, safely accommodated back at Harm's apartment with a fully-vetted short-term baby-sitter in attendance.

"Looks like there's some hair fibres mixed in with the dried blood; also some skin; I'll take samples".

Then almost miraculously, they found Dar-Lin and the two adults in uniform gained her trust. It was heartbreaking when Dar-Lin realised that Annie was dead; but the eventually revealed the threats which Charlie Lynch had levelled at them. " _He told us, unless we was good, he was gonna stomp us, right on our head_ ".

Safely back at JAG HQ, Harm and Terri wrote up their reports and combined them for the eventual prosecution of Charlie Lynch, once NCIS had tracked him down. Over the following weekend, Harm and Terri made good progress in looking for a larger home where they could base their family life in the DC area. The original house was to be placed out for rental (in part, to provide an asset base for Ellie's inheritance).

Terri could feel herself inexorably relaxing into a decision to transfer to DC; it fitted with her desire for a new phase in her career. The MPD teams were all very well trained and she was proud of them; it was time to open up their paths to further promotion - and for that, she needed to leave Tennessee and get out of their path. Washington career paths, motherhood and marriage to her Tomcat all made sense; it was time to leave Tennessee.

Over the next week and under the care of Jordi Parker, Dar-Lin began to heal and to emerge from her shell. Proper nutrition also helped, rapidly transforming the emaciated young girl into a healthy child approaching average weight as the months passed.

A week after rescuing Dar-Lin and being able to inscribe the correct name, birth and death details on Annie Lewis' tombstone, Terri flew home via the NAS at Millington. She phoned Harm as she arrived home into Millington.

" **Promise me something Harm - that surviving child can make it; she's got strength. We don't want to waste her life: find a way to make it OK. Listen, call me some time when you don't need something** ".

Harm understood her message.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Sunday 21st March 1999 - 21:47ZULU**

 **Military Aviation Terminal; Andrews Air Force Base**

 **Washington DC**

Harm telephoned Terri before he embarked upon the flights out to the USS Coral Sea to investigate injuries relating to a steam pipe burst.

Terri was pleased to hear his voice and reminded him of her love: " _I've got the right man; call me when you don't need something_ ".

Harm's experiences on the Coral Sea finally led to the successful disruption of the planned robbery, although Mac's fingers, damaged by the acid, would take a while to heal. He headed back stateside on the Friday, hoping for a quiet weekend with Terri, who had flown up to Washington for the week, using his apartment and "watering his plants" whilst he was afloat. She also followed up on a number of employment openings and continued to check out the real estate agencies.

The real estate search would bear fruit in mid-April, when a lovely family home was identified in Forest Hills. Frank transferred the money across to Harm's bank account and Harm fitted in a weekend trip to Memphis, carrying the documents for Terri's signature. The purchase of the Coulter-Rabb family home was approaching completion, as Ellie completed her third month of growth.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Saturday, 27th March 1999 - 19:52hrs EST**

 **Home of Harmon Rabb, North of Union Station**

 **Washington DC**.

Terri had just fed and changed Ellie and laid the baby in her crib. Pulling her long blonde hair back into a pony-tail, she walked through into the living area and took a sip of Harm's beer before settling on the sofa alongside him. He took her hand and squeezed affectionately; she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"Harm, I'm coming to a decision and I want to run it by you".

"OK darling, lead on". He looked deep into her eyes as she started to unburden, then he asked her one question.

"Is it this Annie Lewis case?"

"No, although the experience of being in Washington for the autopsy is part of this; all the autopsy reports are reviewed and closed. No I want to talk about us, homes, babies plural and - in total - our future".

She looked down at the engagement ring on her finger, and said slowly "plus I want another piece of gold here and I know from talking with Mac that you are kinda slow when it comes to making a commitment".

Harm nodded and smiled ruefully. "Guilty as charged, doc. When did you talk with Mac?"

"Oh, a while back, just after we got engaged. She called me in MPD to congratulate me, expressed her regret that she hadn't been able to get you to commit, but wished me well and gave me some pointers on how to get the best out of you. Harm, she was actually *very* complimentary about you and she described you as " _her best missed opportunity so far in life_ " which I reckon is high praise for you. Now, don't get big-headed, Tomcat!" She smiled and leaned in as Harm formulated his reply to the compliment from Mac.

Harm sighed. "So how can you help me overcome my commitment problem, Terri?"

Terri leaned in and stroked his thigh. "Well, Tomcat, I have a number of techniques at my disposal, both medical and non-medical, but let me take you through my thoughts for now".

"OK, I'm listening; a bit distracted, but I an definitely listening" Harm shifted slightly on the couch - Terri's touch was having a definite physiological effect on his anatomy!

"Well, I am now a mother and I hated what that sick bastard did to that poor defenceless girl. I am also pretty pissed off by the woeful quality of the autopsy work that Vaughn did first time round. I know that I have trained my department at MPD well - Jessie-Mae can take over from me and step up with barely a ripple; the good citizens of Memphis will barely notice I am gone".

Harm's expression brightened. "So, what would you do for work?"

My friend the Commissioner of Police (you met him and Darlene in the hospital when I was giving birth, remember?) got wind that the FBI are setting up a permanent Federal task force, here in DC, looking at serial killers and child abduction". Terri preened herself. "Apparently I am very highly thought-of and, although he would miss me, he is happy for the great state of Tennessee - and the great city of Memphis - to promote their best ME onto the FBI payroll; I did a hostage-rescue course with them last year as they looked to beef up skills in local police forces. Plus it would be a promotion for me and I am happy to stay in the Navy Reserves for now, so a job in DC would make my USN Reserves work so much easier".

Harm took her hands in his and kissed them, then leaned across and kissed her. "You *are* good, Terri - anyone would be proud to have you on their payroll, super-doc!". He smiled and continued; "Darling, that is marvellous news; I am proud of you".

"Yes it is, Tomcat, plus you wouldn't have to change your base locations - which, frankly, would have been a bone of contention between us, I am sure. So I reckon that, once I say yes, things will move quickly. Now, I am still on mat leave so I'm agnostic about where I stay for the next few months; however I reckon you would declare an interest?" She smiled as she posed the last question.

Harm got down on one knee and said, simply: "Marry me soonest?"

She leaned down, kissed him and simply said "Yes, Tomcat".

"OK, next question - when to marry and when to move".

"I'd like this all settled by the end of May - say Memorial Day for the home moves to be completed; I may pick the same timeline for the wedding, because I don't reckon we could hit the anniversary of Ellie's conception at the end of April, or could we?"

"What, you are ruling out getting married one month from now at the end of April? Why not try for that?" He thought for a moment then smiled triumphantly. "Yes I reckon we could, Terri; I'll ask the Admiral for a week or two weeks around that time and I'll also check the chapel availability at Annapolis for dates around then".

He looked quickly at the calendar on his wall. "The 28th of next month would be a Wednesday. I can see another advantage, as a husband, in that I'd remember my wedding anniversary and my first daughter's conception day more easily if they fall on the same day". He flashed his goofy aviator smile and Terri smacked him playfully on his arm: "Idiot!"

Harm sighed. "Yeah, but I am your idiot, Teresa; all of me, 100% and for eternity".

"Eternity's a long time" replied Terri, quoting a half-remembered film.

She stretched and yawned. "OK, next stop bed; tomorrow is Sunday, so let's continue looking at houses and on Monday I need to get back to my Commissioner to start the wheels moving for the FBI job. It might make sense to set the FBI job up to start in early May, for a number of reasons".

Harm raised an enquiring eyebrow: "OK Terri, why?"

She rattled off the points, using her fingers to enumerate each argument.

"Another five weeks and I should be back to fitness _post-partum_ ; it will be month five of nursing Ellie and she'll be sleeping through the night (I hope). Anyway, I can express milk so that the FBI nursery/crèche can look after her during the day. It gives me two months to hand over to Jesse-Mae and answer any questions (a kind of slow-motion departure with a hint of consultancy). It gives the FBI time to set up the task force and I can supervise the new laboratories (maybe spending time and weekends here with you)".

She paused: "And there is the final, practical question of identity". She smiled at Harm.

Harm looked blank "Identity?"

"Yes, Tomcat; my identity; Dr Teresa Coulter will leave Memphis in April '99 to get married, and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb will join the FBI in May 1999 to continue an illustrious career. Any objections?"

"Hell no - no objections at all, my darling! I wondered if you would take my name, but the hyphenation makes brilliant sense. Thank you darling, but why put Rabb last?"

"Because, my dear Tomcat, it gives you the chance to become Lt Cdr Harmon David Coulter-Rabb if you wish, but people (like the Admiral) will probably still yell *RABB* whenever they need you".

She smiled and nibbled a piece of celery which she had stolen from the salad bowl, attempting to flutter her eyelashes innocently; it didn't quite work!

Harm hugged her. "How did I ever deserve such a wonderful woman as you?"

"Well, Tomcat, it's more the case that you didn't resist when a smart, intelligent, beautiful and determined woman set her sights on you last April. On which subject, three months on from the birth, I reckon it's time for us to share a bed properly again".

Harm realised that their discussions had taken up most of the evening. "Lead on Doc; lead on - but please be gentle with me, Terri!"

"Always, Tomcat!"

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Monday 26th April 1999 - 16:52hrs EST**

 **The new home of Lt Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb (to be),**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, ** **Washington DC******

The removals crew had moved the contents of Harm's apartment into the new family home a week before, enabling Harm and Terri to plan the relocation of her home contents from Millington to DC at the end of their honeymoon. Buying the new family home using Harm's college fund enabled Terri to keep her house in Millington, which she placed in the hands of a rental agent to be let out to tenants. Harm had kept ownership of the building in which his former apartment had been based, giving Ellie a good-sized property-based fund for her future financial security.

 ***WEDDING - Wednesday 28th April 1999, noon PT**

 **St James by the Sea Episcopal Church, **La Jolla, CA****

St James by the Sea Episcopal Church, had been selected out of deference to Terri's Southern Baptist upbringing. The cool floor of the church enabled Terri to wear open sandals (as she put it, coming from alongside the "Great Muddy", she didn't want sand in her toes).

Alongside Trisha and Frank, the guest list included Jack Keeter, Elizabeth "Skates" Hawkes and Meg Austin. Mac had unexpectedly been sent TDY to Indonesia, to deal with a major local incident involving Marines - Chegwidden was apologetic about her urgent posting, but Mac had visited Terri and Harm for dinner before she shipped out, and the three friends had ensured that there was no ill-will. Terri made a point of reserving two slices of the wedding cake for Mac; whether or not the "hungry Marine" had a partner, she would definitely have her cake!

Frank had very kindly provided a private jet to bring Harm, Terri and Ellie across to California, then again to transport them to their honeymoon in Boston - a city which had no "history" of previous lovers for either of them and enabled them to settle into the start of married life.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Friday April 30th 1999 - 09:55hrs EST**

 **Honeymoon suite, Boston Marriott Copley Place**

 **110 Huntington Avenue, Boston, Massachusetts 02116 USA**

"OK, honeymoon lady; time for the city tour".

The week in Boston went quickly, enabling the newlyweds to return home to DC on the evening of Thursday 6th May. They enjoyed exploring the Independence Trail, Faneuil Hall and the countryside outside Boston during their leisurely stay in the city. All too soon, it was time to pack up and return to Washington, to commence their married life. With work looming on the following Monday, they had just three days to finish moving into their new home.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Friday 7th May 1999 - 09:33hrs EST**

 **The new home of Lt Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, ** **Washington DC******

"Good morning Dr Coulter-Rabb".

"Good morning Commander Rabb; good morning little Ellen Coulter-Rabb, of the permanently-hungry variety".

Terri, fresh from her shower, picked up Ellie and headed into the sunlit study, where the morning sunshine created a warm nest which would keep Ellie contented as she fed, was changed and then put down for a late-morning rest. On Friday 7th May, they would complete the process of moving into the new home, with Terri's household contents due to be trucked in at 1200noon. Whilst Terri fed their daughter, Harm began work preparing "Post-It" labels on the doorframes of all the rooms, so that the removals firm, bringing boxes which were all marked for specific rooms, would be able to quickly offload into each room.

Terri's house in Millington had been professionally packed in a similar manner with each room named, so the removal trucks packed up the Millington home towards the end of their honeymoon and the honeymoon couple returned home to find that their new home was ready to be filled with the second batch of furniture on Friday 7th May.

Harm realised ruefully that the unpacking of the boxes would take a while longer, Still, the three-car garage now protected his 1960s Corvette and his Lexus, whilst Terri's Saab convertible nestled in the third bay, closest to the fire-door into the utility room of the house. Apart from tending to Ellie regularly, the weekend was spent unpacking and by Sunday lunchtime the house was in good shape - ready to become the Coulter-Rabb home (the name which was sign-written onto the mailbox at the kerb).

Terri reported for duty at the J Edgar Hoover building on Monday morning, May 10th to begin her new role in the task force: this was quite fortuitous, because two weeks later, Harm (and Terri) would be suddenly dragged back into the Annie Lewis case.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Monday, 24th May 1999 - 08:59hrs EST**

 **Conference Room, JAG HQ, Falls Church. VA**.

"Admiral on deck".

"Good morning people; as we start the week leading up to Memorial day, you may remember your Charlie Lynch from the Annie Lewis case; he has re-appeared and appears to be searching for the little girl Dar-Lin. Dr Parker here is going to review the file with Lt Cdr Rabb after this staff call".

Jordi sat in Harm's office and they looked back through Charlie's unsealed Juvenile record. It made depressing reading. The update briefing, with Jordi Parker present as well as the NCIS team and an FBI Agent in Charge, had run through Charlie Lynch's "back catalogue".

" _Charlie Lynch; last served on the USS Seabridge after the Bunker Hill (currently in WESTPAC) and the Sterrat (decommissioned). On the Seabridge, an Aviation Logistics Support Boat"._ Agent Holland NCIS took up the litany with his naval history _: "(1st) Gunners Mate on the Sterrat: (2nd) brawl in Bar - "Boomers" - busted down to PO3. Recently: killed Angela Delaval the hotel owner along with Marjorie Lewis (the girls' aunt). He is obviously looking for the girl_ ".

Jordi Parker rounded off with the psych eval from his childhood juvenile record: " _unwilling or unable to change his violent ways_ ";

All of this had come together violently the next day, at 0207Z (0705hrs local) in the Transient Lodging facility in Washington DC on a beautiful late-May morning. Terri had been preparing to teach a course to US Navy personnel in the FBI HQ, so was in her uniform when the call came to "scramble" her to the Transient Lodging facility. Leaving Ellie safely in the FBI nursery and instructing her administrator to pass the word along, Terri ran out of her department towards the Motor Pool. The mixed-jurisdictional nature of the Charlie Lynch/Annie Lewis case made it a perfect early candidate for Terri to deploy her team. Sadly, the death of the marine guard outside and the young female agent inside the apartment where Dar-Lin Lewis had been accommodated merely emphasised the danger inherent in Charlie Lynch. He was obviously unravelling fast, with his mental state causing concern - and danger - for all involved.

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR**

 **Tuesday 25th May 1999 - 09:00hrs EST**

 **Transient Lodging Facility, Washington DC**

Terri stared down at the still form of the young female agent, who had obviously been drawing water from the faucet when she had been shot in the back of the head.

Odd items of information flooded Terri's mind as she walked around the corpse. The woman's high-heeled shoes were almost brand new, with the soles unmarked - but her ankle holster was empty. Her neat ginger hair was spread across the ground, matted by the congealed blood which had flooded from the catastrophic bullet wound in the back of her head where Charlie's second round had penetrated her skull. Her main sidearm remained undrawn in her holster under her arm.

Terri sighed; at least death had been instantaneous for this young woman - she literally hadn't seen death approaching from behind her. Sadly, Terri notice the shiny new wedding band on the woman's left hand - another married life unfulfilled, or a young child left motherless. Maybe it was her recently-married status, but Terri felt some form of sisterly connection with married women; this was a new sensation for her, not something that she had ever felt during her solo days as an ME with MPD.

Terri hoped that the authorities would track down Charlie Lynch and bring his reign of terror to an end. She picked up a knitted blue parrot - obviously Dar-Lin had dropped it at some point. She tucked the parrot inside her jacket as she sized up the distance to the next victim, the Marine lying dead on the pathway outside.

Agent Holland stood by the kitchen sink, surveying the carnage. Terri exchanged looks with her: "God, what a mess; my husband wouldn't like this - he prefers order".

Holland sighed; "Well, Doctor Coulter, I am glad that your husband isn't here; this would probably ruin his day".

Terri began to stand up from examining the corpse of the fallen Marine. As she did so, something solid smacked into the back of her head. Fortunately, having her hair gathered in a bun provided a measure of padding to the back of her neck, but even so she fell forward to the ground, bounced off the marine's corpse and landed in the flowerbed, dazed from the impact, with her cover rolling away into the corner. Terri struggled to clear her muzzy head as Charlie Lynch yanked her upright by her collar; the stars in her vision subsided as Charlie Lynch wrapped an arm around her neck, holding the 9mm pistol as he clung onto Dar-Lin's collar with his other hand.

Charlie had obviously been hiding in the building and the NCIS agents had not discovered his hiding place. He dragged Dar-Lin with him down the path, pushing Terri ahead of him as an impromptu human shield.

Still dazed. Terri stumbled towards the parking lot as Charlie urged her onwards, keeping his grip on Dar-Lin. Terri heard the sound of approaching female heels and, with a sense of dread, watched Charlie lift his pistol and line up on the corner of the building. A young woman in civilian clothing, in a light grey pant-suit and fumbling in her handbag (presumably for keys), walked into view around the corner.

Unhesitatingly, Charlie fired twice, the bullet impacts grouping as a pair of ugly dark red spots in the centre of the woman's neatly-buttoned light-grey suit jacket. Already dying, the woman fell backwards and sideways into the flower border as Charlie urged Terri forwards towards the parking lot, along the path past the dying woman. He hadn't hesitated, simply executing the brunette as she walked into view; she hadn't even seen the man who murdered her, simply falling sideways with her head down, hand still in her bag and with one elegant stiletto skittering across the path as her body landed bonelessly in the undergrowth and settled on her back, gazing skywards.

Terri was blazing angry at the shocking wasteful loss of another young life at the hand of this vicious nutter. Several months of disturbed sleep, the pressure of relocation, getting accustomed to marriage to Harm, sore nipples - everything conspired to shorten the usually-long fuse of the Tennessee Tigress. Charlie Lynch had seriously pissed off one Teresa Coulter-Rabb!

The sheer callous unthinking nature of this latest killing filled Terri with a fierce resolve that, before the end of today, Charlie would be safely in custody or dead. No other option was viable. Now, if only her head would stop throbbing!

Her medical training kicked in and she tore herself free from Charlie's grip, kneeling in the flowerbed to check the woman's carotid artery and left wrist for a pulse. There was, as she had expected, none. The woman's sightless eyes stared up at the sky, her lips frozen forever in an "O" of surprise. Taking the woman's left hand, Terri looked at the wedding band and noted that Charlie had just killed another married woman. Could he have seen the ring from that distance as the woman turned the corner? Unlikely, Terri reasoned, but she still tucked her left hand into her jacket pocket as Charlie bent over her, screaming abuse at her.

"You god-damned officers, always telling me what to do; well, no more!" he screamed.

Terri suddenly felt the muzzle of his pistol press against her temple.

Time seemed to stand still.

Terri placed the fingers of her right hand on her chest, where her crucifix nestled beneath her uniform shirt, uttered a quick prayer and closed her eyes.

All she could see, in her mind's eye, was Harm's loving face and little Ellie.

Standing over her, Charlie was still screaming abuse as he held the pistol against her head.

Then she heard the "click" as Charlie pulled the trigger...

.

... to be continued...

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase six - "Somebo** **dy's child** **" ****

 **TC &HR-TC&HR-TC&HR-TC&HR. **


	7. Somebody's wife - His wife

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 7 - part 10)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole A/N.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Phase Seven of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Somebody's wife - His wife"**

A/N 27-05-2018: ...and now, on past the cliff-hanger from Chapter Six. It is a pleasure to be publishing this, sitting in the USA in the great state of Indiana, at the end of a lovely day attending the INDY-500 car race at Indianapolis. This major sporting event is centred around the commemoration of fallen American service personnel and it was - as always when we visit the USA for Memorial Day - a wonderful insight into the American heartland.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 7 - Part 10 - "Somebody's wife - His wife".**

 **Tuesday 25th May 1999 - 09:00hrs EST**

 **Transient Lodging Facility, Washington DC**

Terri stared down at the still form of the young female agent, who had obviously been drawing water from the faucet when she had been shot in the back.

Odd items of information flooded Terri's mind as she walked around the corpse: the woman's high-heeled shoes were almost brand new, with the soles unmarked - but her ankle holster was empty. Her neat ginger hair was spread across the ground, matted by the congealed blood which had flooded from the catastrophic bullet wound in the back of her head where Charlie's second round had penetrated her skull. Her main sidearm remained undrawn in her shoulder holster under her arm.

Terri sighed; at least death had been instantaneous for this young woman - she literally hadn't seen death approaching from behind her. Sadly, Terri notice the shiny new wedding band on the woman's left hand - another married life unfulfilled, or a young child left motherless. Maybe it was her recently-married status, but Terri felt some form of sisterly connection with married women; this was a new sensation for her, not something that she had ever felt during her days as an ME with MPD nor during her ill-fated marriage to Rory Coulter.

Terri hoped that the authorities would track down Charlie Lynch and bring his reign of terror to an end. She spotted a knitted blue parrot on the floor and bent down to pick it up - obviously Dar-Lin had dropped it at some point. She tucked the parrot inside her jacket as she sized up the distance to the next victim, the Marine lying dead on the pathway outside.

Agent Holland stood by the kitchen sink, surveying the carnage. Terri exchanged looks with her: "God, what a mess; my husband wouldn't like this - he prefers order".

Holland sighed; "Well, Doctor Coulter, I am glad that your husband isn't here; this would probably ruin his day".

Terri began to stand up from examining the corpse of the fallen Marine. As she did so, something solid smacked into the back of her head. Fortunately, her hair gathered in a bun provided a measure of padding to the back of her neck, but even so she fell forward to the ground, bounced off the marine's corpse and landed in the flowerbed, dazed from the impact, with her cover rolling away into the corner. Terri struggled to clear her muzzy head as Charlie Lynch yanked her upright by her collar; the stars in her vision subsided as Charlie Lynch wrapped an arm around her neck, holding the 9mm pistol as he clung onto Dar-Lin's collar with his other hand.

Charlie had obviously been hiding in the building and the NCIS agents had not discovered his hiding place. He dragged Dar-Lin with him down the path, pushing Terri ahead of him as an impromptu human shield.

Still dazed. Terri stumbled towards the parking lot as Charlie urged her onwards, keeping his grip on Dar-Lin. Terri heard the sound of approaching female heels and, with a sense of dread, watched Charlie lift his pistol and line up on the corner of the building. A young woman in civilian clothing, in a light grey pant-suit and fumbling in her handbag (presumably for keys), walked into view around the corner.

Unhesitatingly, Charlie fired twice, the bullet impacts grouping as a pair of ugly dark red spots in the centre of the woman's neatly-buttoned light-grey suit jacket. Already dying, the woman fell backwards and sideways into the flower border as Charlie urged Terri forwards towards the parking lot, along the path past the dying woman. He hadn't hesitated, simply executing the brunette as she walked into view; she hadn't even seen the man who murdered her, simply falling sideways with her head down, hand still in her bag and with one elegant stiletto skittering across the path as her body landed bonelessly in the undergrowth and settled on her back, gazing skywards.

Terri was blazing angry at the shocking wasteful loss of another young life at the hand of this vicious nutter.

The sheer callous unthinking nature of this latest killing filled Terri with a fierce resolve that, before the end of today, Charlie would be safely in custody or dead. No other option was viable. Now, if only her head would stop throbbing!

Several months of disturbed sleep, the pressure of relocation, getting accustomed to marriage to Harm, sore nipples - everything conspired to shorten the usually-long fuse of the Tennessee Tigress. Charlie Lynch had made the mistake of seriously pissing-off one Teresa Coulter-Rabb!

Her medical training kicked in and she tore herself free from Charlie's grip, kneeling in the flowerbed to check the woman's carotid artery and left wrist for a pulse. There was, as she had expected, none. The woman's sightless eyes stared up at the sky, her lips frozen forever in an "O" of surprise. Taking the woman's left hand, Terri looked at the wedding band and noted that Charlie had just killed another married woman. Could he have seen the ring from that distance as the woman turned the corner? Unlikely, Terri reasoned, it was probably just a part of his misogynistic rampage, but nevertheless she still tucked her left hand into her jacket pocket as Charlie bent over her, screaming abuse at her.

"You god-damned officers, always telling me what to do; well, no more!" he screamed.

Terri suddenly felt the muzzle of his pistol press against her temple.

Time seemed to stand still.

Terri placed the fingers of her right hand on her chest, where her crucifix nestled beneath her uniform shirt, whispered a quick prayer and closed her eyes.

All she could see, in her mind's eye, was Harm's loving face and little Ellie.

Standing over her, Charlie was still screaming abuse as he held the pistol against her head.

Then she heard the "click" as Charlie pulled the trigger...

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

At that moment, two things happened; firstly, Terri realised that her life was not "flashing before her eyes" - as was mooted to happen to you at the moment of your death.

Secondly, Agent Holland shouted at Charlie to distract him from blowing Terri's brains out and Terri, turning her head sideways to look up the barrel of the pistol, realised that Charlie's weapon had suffered a "stove-pipe" - the spent cartridge from the previous round had jammed in the breech without ejecting cleanly; Charlie's weapon had jammed just as Terri had thought that she was about to be treated to a 9mm-calibre lobotomy. With his left hand clutching Dar-Lin by her collar, Charlie was unable to clear the stove-pipe (an action which required the shooter to have both hands free to handle the weapon).

His pistol was useless (except to whack the back of her neck again, Terri realised). She offered up another quick prayer - of thanks this time - and stood up, facing Charlie as he once more grabbed her in an arm-lock around her throat. Terri realised that this was starting to seriously hurt her neck, as Charlie screamed abuse at the useless pistol still gripped in his hand.

Charlie was now losing arguments with inanimate objects - Terri tried hard not to smile, as the sheer amusing stupidity of Charlie's unravelling brightened her day. Agent Holland shouted again at Charlie, distracting him once more. Terri regretted not being routinely armed (which she was now permitted to be, as a qualified FBI agent); even a stiletto knife or a KA-BAR tucked in her boot would have been useful at this point, she mused. " _Ah well, no point in worrying about what you don't have_ ". What would Charlie's next mad action be, she wondered as he gripped her neck once more.

Charlie dropped the pistol into the flowerbed and produced another from the waistband of his trousers - perhaps it was the female agent's backup weapon. He pointed the weapon at Agent Holland and urged Terri into a standing position in front of him. His arm never released the pressure on her neck as he dragged Dar-Lin along the path toward the parking lot. Terri looked back at the dead woman lying in the flowerbed. Somebody else's wife would not be going home to her husband (and possibly children). Charlie Lynch wasn't doing anything for family dynamics - in complete opposition to his stated claim to be trying to put a family back together (his stated background reason for the start of his rampage).

Forcing Terri towards his car and in through the passenger door before forcing her to slide across to the driver's seat, Charlie Lynch sent the other agents diving for cover with well-aimed shots fired into the tyres of the other vehicles - bringing a (temporary) halt to the possibility of a pursuit. Once more placing his pistol against her temple, he commanded Terri to drive.

"Keys, arsehole!" she replied, holding out her hand for the car keys. She really didn't give a rat's ass about annoying this nutter now; he hadn't realised that, in the vehicle, he was an easier target for the FBI snipers - but Terri had, with her FBI training (hostage rescue had been her first elective course).

Slightly sheepishly, Charlie dipped into his shirt pocket and handed over the car keys. "Drive!" he screamed once more; Terri complied, heading out towards the highway. With the car window open, she thought that she could hear a helicopter in the distance.

Terri wasn't worried - having just escaped having her brains blown out, she felt remarkably "chilled" - although she rationalised that she might be going into shock. What Charlie Lynch hadn't realised was that Terri's arrival on scene at the Transient Lodging Facility had been backed up by an FBI task force helicopter, with FLIR, night-vision and high-definition cameras plus two snipers, which had been monitoring the scene. Terri's forced drive through the city and out onto the highway, presumably heading for the naval pier where Charlie's former ship was docked, was about to be tracked, monitored and reported at every stage.

The FBI and NCIS joint task force, exchanging data and knowledge in real time, were all set to track his journey and they would rapidly forecast the USS Seabridge as Charlie's most likely destination; NCIS mobilised local resources in Philadelphia to stake out the ship discreetly, ahead of Charlie's expected arrival. The FBI would fly in to back up and add firepower and knowledge as required. They had learned many lessons since the catastrophic outcome of the " _Branch Davidian_ " siege in Waco Texas, six years earlier in April 1993.

From the briefing the previous day, Terri knew that the FBI S.O.P. was " _Track, monitor, contain, suppress with prejudice_ ". Wherever Charlie Lynch was headed, Terri knew that her gang was on the case and would not drop the ball - and (following her transfer to DC) Terri now belonged to the biggest gang in America! Charlie Lynch might not realise it yet, but his remaining hours on this planet were numbered - in single digits. Taking hostages, especially military personnel and children, put him further on the wrong side of the law. Taking an FBI agent as a hostage was an even bigger "no-no" as far as the law was concerned - and "the law" was prepared and ready to strike back.

 **Tuesday, 25th May 1999 - 09:07hrs EST**

 **Conference Room, JAG HQ, Falls Church. VA**.

"Admiral on deck".

"As you were, people. Mr Rabb, I have a high-priority task for you".

In JAG HQ, the request for a JAG lawyer to advise the naval authorities (SP and NCIS) on the rules for engagement for a hostage situation on a US Navy ship was handed, unthinkingly, by the Admiral to Harm. The Admiral's delegation of the task was swift, taking just four minutes from the call to the Admiral until the assignment to Harm.

Only after Harm reported in by phone to Agent Holland and hooked up with the FBI HRT teleconference as the designated JAG legal expert, had the penny dropped with the FBI that the hostage (Dr Coulter-Rabb, of the FBI) might perhaps be related to the JAG lawyer assigned to the NCIS case, one Lt Cdr Harmon Rabb. However, it was too late to request a change - by this time, Charlie Lynch's car had been spotted, identified and was being followed along the start of the 130-mile journey to the Philadelphia naval shipyard and it was a reasonable guess that he was heading for his old ship, the USS Seabridge, in the Philadelphia naval shipyard.

"Commander, please get across to the Navy Yard: NCIS is diverting a Navy helo for the run after Lynch".

"Aye Aye, Agent Holland".

Cruising at 143kts (166MPH), the CH-46 would cover the straight-line 130-mile run to Philadelphia inside an hour, eliminating Charlie Lynch's head-start. The FBI HRT helo would arrive first and unload the HRT, then would lift off again and circle out to loiter, holding station to provide coverage and oversight above the scene. The CH-46 driver informed Harm that they already had an LZ identified, close to the Seabridge in the dockyard but safely protected from view by buildings.

The local NCIS team, alerted by Agent Holland, would meet the CH-46 and provide hand weapons as needed, although the FBI helicopter (which had also arrived on scene) was always " _loaded for bear_ " with its onboard armoury. The FBI helo could drop down alongside the LZ to transfer weapons, before lifting off again to hold station and loiter in the air.

 **Tuesday 25th May 1999 - 10:59hrs EST**

 **Philadelphia Naval Shipyard, alongside USS Seabridge**

The car drew to a halt alongside the gangplank of the USS Seabridge - Charlie's last ship. Terri put the car into "Park" and looked across at Charlie.

"Out" he commanded, wrapping his arm once more around her neck, pulling Terri back across the interior of the car and causing her to drop the car keys into the footwell. This meant that he was holding his pistol left-handed, with Dar-Lin gripped in his right hand. Descending the gangplank onto the ship, Terri resisted the temptation to look skywards - she could hear the distinctive steady beat of the FBI HRT's helo rotors as it held station. She had shielded Dar-Lin from Charlie, at one point stepping back into him to induce him to stop crowding her and the little girl as he pushed them into the fire-control room. Her kindness had earned her another pistol-butt slammed into the back of her head. Fortunately, Charlie was less forceful with the weapon in his left hand, but nevertheless the impact left Terri hurt and annoyed - actually, blazing angry.

"Stop doin' that, Commander" he snarled. "You're not getting my prize for bein' little Miss Southern Congeniality".

Terri was, by now, seriously pissed off; her head was still hurting; her neck was sore; the long drive without sunglasses had made her eyes sting; her back was hurting from the impact with the edging of the flowerbed and being dragged across the car, while Charlie was simply being too annoying for words. He had spent much of the journey from DC whining about life in general - and women in particular. On more than one occasion during the journey, Terri had wished fervently for a James-Bond style passenger ejection seat in the car!

She came to a decision and, with a silent thought of " _fuck it_!" she decided to start pushing further. Her FBI gang would have her back; it was time to apply a little pressure to Mr Charlie "kidnapper" Lynch, on her terms. There was a better-than-even chance that an FBI tech was already listening into the car with a directional mike. Terri didn't normally swear, but her rising anger at the swathe of unprovoked deaths which she had seen since Charlie started his rampage with Annie's death had provoked the normally relaxed and considerate ex-Tennessee FBI ME. This dangerous idiot *had* to be stopped - and "asking nicely" obviously hadn't worked!

"Why did you kill Annie?" She asked.

Terri was like a hunting dog on a scent run - she wasn't giving up and she knew that the FBI's HRT were on the way if not in sight - again, S.O.P. when an agent was involved in a hostage situation. She had an increasing feeling of warmth and support knowing that, since her job change and relocation to DC, the entire resources of the FBI now stood ranged behind her, not just the MPD.

"She disrespected me".

Terri's jaw dropped in bewildered disbelief. " _For that, you killed a child?"._ She glared unbelievingly at him.

Charlie's wild-eyed expression penetrated to her soul, yet she knew, staring back at this lunatic (" _sorry Jordi, you probably have some fancy psycho-babble term for this nutter, but fuck it, for now I'm going with 'lunatic' to describe this cretin"_ ) that he had no intention of treating her fairly.

Terri, stressed and pissed-off as she was, had no intention of being kind or considerate to her captor; her priority was to keep him off-balance and away from hurting Dar-Lin until her HRT colleagues could take him out. The FBI's " _Mad Dog_ " protocol had been agreed and activated as soon as NCIS reported the loss of the female agent and the Marine at the Transient Lodging Facility at 07:51hrs that morning. Sadly, the dead female civilian lying in the flowerbed merely confirmed the FBI decision on the protocol to be applied.

Terri looked incredulously at Charlie's reflection in the mirror which they both faced. This raging nutter wasn't making any sense (OK, in fairness, Jordi had dressed up the psychological terminology in his case review, but Charlie was basically " _two burgers short of a Happy Meal_ ", or the British naval equivalent: " _not rowing with both oars in the water_ ").

"Huh? She just wanted to be with kids her own age!" The contempt in her tone was clear. The gap between Charlie Lynch and reality was widening by the minute; she had to keep him psychologically off balance, distracted from his original mission and his illogical desire to kill Dar-Lin in some confused attempt to get back at Annie Lewis.

Terri's scattered wits were regrouping steadily after the second unexpected impact on the back of her neck, although she had felt sick during the panic of the drive to the naval yard. She could kill for an aspirin or Ibuprofen.

Then, suddenly, in the back of her mind (still functioning despite the throbbing pain), something Charlie had said sparked a thought.

His crack about Congeniality reminded Terri that one of her FBI colleagues was consulting with a film company about an upcoming film, currently in development and due to be filmed during 2000, to be called "Miss Congeniality", which would be starring Sandra Bullock as the FBI agent of the title. The agent had entertained her group with tales of how the film-makers liked the idea of the FBI's "S.I.N.G." acronym for self-defence. The agent had explained to Terri the self-defence moves needed to disable a male attacker: " **SING - Solar-plexus (use your elbow), Instep (use your heel), Nose (fist or palm of your hand), Groin (Knee, elbow, fist or foot - whatever takes your fancy)** ".

As Charlie struggled to push Dar-Lin and Terri further inside the ship, the little girl's stature pulled him sideways as she struggled in his grasp, causing Terri to spot her chance.

Terri wasn't a lightweight, and Charlie Lynch's tall, thin body was in the perfect position for her to swing an elbow back into his solar plexus. Winded, he began to stagger back into the steel walls of the ship's narrow corridor, as the Tennessee Lioness raised an exercise-muscled leg, shod with a Navy issue ankle boot with a one-inch block heel and stomped on the inside edge of his foot and slammed her right hand against his wrist. As he dropped the pistol (she thought briefly " _Idiot - safety catch!"),_ she swung a roundhouse punch with her left hand, causing the diamond of her engagement ring to gouge out a chunk of flesh below his eye as she swept what was left of his nose towards his ear. Finally as he staggered backwards away from her, Terri put all her might, her hatred and her fear into a drop-kick which would have lifted a lighter man off the ground. Charlie Lynch crumpled nervelessly to the floor.

As he fell, Terri saw no reason why she should not apply her medical knowledge, so booted him once more in the face - she promised herself, honestly, that she only wanted to cushion the impact of his face with the deck: " _Honest, your honour, I just wanted to slow his fall! (come on Teresa, try to look innocent!)_ ". She was, however, determined to put Charlie's lights out until her colleagues with the handcuffs had arrived.

"Now, *that* is what I call a Tennessee Stomp for Annie" she said with considerable venom and relief as she kicked Charlie's pistol into the corner. She turned towards little Dar-Lin, who was standing, open-mouthed with surprise and also frozen with fear. Suddenly, Mommy Teresa replaced Warrior Terri and she knelt down to comfort Dar-Lin, wrapping the underweight little girl in her arms and holding her tightly against her chest.

At that precise moment, Harm burst into the engineering room, side-arm drawn. "You OK, Terri?"

"Oh hell yeah, Tomcat; never better; just let me get out of here with Dar-Lin; where is the Shore Patrol"?.

"Just behind us, they're..." Harm's reply was interrupted by a feral growl; Charlie Lynch staggered to his feet, spitting out blood and teeth, plucked a fire-axe from the hooks on the wall and advanced on the trio.

Shouting " _he's all yours!_ " to Harm, Terri ducked and shielded Dar-Lin under her, turning her back to Charlie to shelter the little girl with her body if necessary, whilst Harm, calmly and unhesitatingly, raised his side-arm and put Charlie firmly beyond the reach of any known medical help with three rounds of nine-millimetre retaliation - a double-tap to the chest then a final coup-de-grace through the forehead. Charlie's next treatment would be administered by Terri - or one of her colleagues more likely - in the nearest Morgue. The fire-axe clattered to the floor.

Typically, the SPs arrived ten seconds afterwards, followed in short order by Agent Holland and two of her NCIS colleagues, who took charge of the scene, secured and made safe Harm's side-arm and Charlie's discarded axe and pistol into evidence bags, then started to try to separate the Terrific Trio. Dar-Lin shook her head mutely and turned her face into Terri's body, gripped Terri's uniform tightly and hid her face. Terri looked across at Agent Holland and shook her head, mouthing " _later?_ " to the older African-American woman.

Holland nodded sympathetically and turned away to supervise the tagging of Lynch's corpse as the FBI HRT members arrived. His three-month murderous reign of terror (around JAG and the surrounding area) and his lifetime of failed relationships and abuse of vulnerable woman had come to an end, in the same violent manner as Charlie had lived much of his sad, unfulfilled, troubled and anti-social life. Harm and Terri would not be attending his funeral - they would spend time with Annie at *her* graveside (taking Dar-Lin along if she felt that she wanted to visit her sister's final resting place in the peaceful cemetery), to let her know that the bad man was gone forever.

One of the USN corpsmen called Terri over, noticing her medical insignia and addressed her with a smile as he pulled on his disposable gloves. "Ma'am, I realise that you are a medic, which makes you the worst kind of patient, but is that your blood on your service jacket and collar?". Terri placed a hand on the back of her neck and looked at the blood on her fingers. She sighed and smiled at him: "OK, corpsman, well spotted; I'll sit still and let you work. I got pistol-whipped - several times - on the back of my head a while back, but please don't worry, because I can still see only one of you!" She sat down, then relaxed as the tension began to drain from her body and smiled at him: "I'm all yours". The corpsman smiled again and started work on treating her bloodied neck.

As the corpsman got to work, Terri handed Dar-Lin very gently across to Agent Holland, just as Dar-Lin turned back to look at Terri: Terri's seated position enabled Dar-Lin to look Terri in the eye. She took Terri's left hand and pressed a finger to the "Coulter-Rabb" name badge on Terri's jacket. "Miss Terri, are you engaged to Commander Rabb?"

"Yes, Dar-Lin and more: I am actually married to the Commander now - and I cannot wait to get back home to where I live with Harm and our little baby. I am also certain that I have picked the right name following my wedding".

Dar-Lin smiled, beaming brightly. "That is great news, Dr Terri, because I want to visit you often in the future." As Dar-Lin hugged Terri, Agent Holland leaned across and squeezed Terri's hand, whispering "Well done, Doc" to Terri.

At that point Jordi Parker, clad in a ballistic vest and with her hand on the grip of a side-arm holstered at her hip, stepped cautiously into the room.

Terri looked at her: "Hell of a way to make a house call, Doctor Parker" as she smiled.

Under Harm's watchful eye (he was never comfortable when two of "his" women met up) Jordi acknowledged her, then Terri beckoned her across and then turned once more to Dar-Lin, including Agent Holland in the mix and speaking up so that Jordi could hear. "Now Dar-Lin, I need you to go with Agent Holland here and Doctor Jordi, who will be looking after you for the forthcoming period of time, because she has the medical skills that you need and because she is a different kind of doctor to me. This means that she is the best doctor for you right now. Do you understand?"

Dar-Lin nodded shyly, then reached out a hand to Jordi. With a nod to Terri, Jordi took Dar-Lin and led her gently past the puddle of blood which marked Charlie Lynch's last stand. Harm and the other grown women present in the fire control room were doing their best to shield Dar-Lin from the puddles of human carnage splattered around the room. As Terri stood up, she felt something inside her jacket.

Realising what it was, she called Dar-Lin back and presented her with the knitted blue parrot; Dar-Lin smiled and hugged her, before resuming her journey holding Jordi's hand. Terri slumped back onto the impromptu seat and submitted once more to the corpsman's renewed ministrations.

Agent Holland looked at Terri with a cool, appraising gaze as Terri looked at her grazed knuckles and reached them out to the corpsman: "Dr Coulter, I feel sorry for your patients after what you seem to have done to Lynch; but I guess that most of them are dead before they get to you usually - is this how you make sure they are ready for you?" She looked down at Lynch's corpse as both women laughed.

"Agent Holland, I think you think right, despite my husband's involvement in this one". Agent Holland raised an eyebrow. "But for now, I guess that you'll want to collect my uniform top in an evidence bag; may I trade it for an NCIS sweatshirt please?"

"Of course Dr Coulter. McGee? Please get an evidence bag for the Commander's uniform, plus an NCIS Sweatshirt to fit her - look in the back of the NCIS truck". Back came the trade-mark McGee response: "On it, Boss".

Agent Holland smiled: "He may be very good with computers as his major skill-set, but he also has the makings of a fine all-round NCIS agent. So - you mentioned your husband in this case a couple of times. What am I missing here?"

"Agent Holland. Thanks for all your help; but to explain about my husband, since you and I first met" (Terri flashed her wedding ring despite the pain in her knuckles and pointed to her name-badge) "I am now Dr Coulter-Rabb".

Agent Holland nodded, with realisation dawning as her eyes swivelled to Harm; he raised his left hand, to display the band which matched the gold on Terri's left hand.

Holland smiled "Wow, you did well girl - excuse me - Doctor. My hearty congratulations and thanks for your help, both of you".

Harm's chest swelled with pride, pleased that this modern independent woman sitting alongside him had chosen to take his name.

The corpsman had finished his work on the wounds on the back of Terri's neck. "Dr Coulter? That's the best I can do; keep the dressing on today, be careful in the shower and if the bleeding re-starts, I reckon you'll need a stitch". He smiled and nodded as he packed up his gear and dropped the bloodied items into a biohazard bag for disposal before heading back to the ambulance.

Terri snuggled up to Harm. "God Harm, the only thing I could think of, with his pistol against my temple, was never seeing you and Ellie again; nothing else mattered".

Harm kissed her softly and, his voice thick with emotion, replied: "I don't think I could bear to think of that; you and Ellie are too important to me as a pair".

"And I'll tell you something else, Mr Rabb: I am *so* glad that we agreed to base our family life here in Washington. I'll always be a Tennessee girl at heart, but I love our new home and I reckon that Ellie will thrive here".

"Nothing for me to argue with there, Dr Coulter-Rabb". They kissed once more.

"Harm?"

"Yes darling?"

"Next time, I'm drawing a sidearm for any cases that involve you".

"Yes dear!"

She rested her head on his chest and looked up into his eyes.

"Take me home, Tomcat".

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Tuesday 25th May 1999 - 23:52hrs EST**

 **The new home of Lt Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Much later that day, Harm and Terri started to relax in their new home. With Dar-Lin safely in the care of Jordi Parker, they had been interviewed separately by agents from NCIS and FBI whilst the events of the morning were fresh in their minds, before being offered transport to their home in DC - which they had gladly accepted.

The long drive back down the I-95 with Agent Holland had largely passed in silence, with each of them deep in his or her own thoughts. Somewhere around Wilmington in Delaware, Harm and Terri fell asleep, leaning on each other with Terri's head on Harm's shoulder and his head resting on her head.

Agent Holland looked in her rear-view mirror and smiled at the vision of the two Navy love-birds sleeping head-on-shoulder on the back seat.

When they reached home, Terri's neck still felt sore. Terri walked through into the bedroom and sat at the wrap-around mirrors on her dressing table. Switching on the light, she examined her neck. The faint beginnings of a bruise were visible on the side of her neck where Charlie had yanked her hard with the inside of his arm as he was forcing her along and killing the female civilian. Her uniform collar would cover most of the bruises, whilst she could rely on make-up to hide the rest. A silk scarf was another possibility, so she decided that she would probably wear "civvies" for the next few days around the office, even though she had planned originally to wear her uniform when she stood up to teach the navy students on her FBI course.

She then simply crashed out on her ex-Memphis sofa, still clad in her brand-new NCIS sweatshirt as an FBI agent brought a slightly-grizzling Ellie into the room, along with a diaper-bag and two empty milk bottles in an FBI Evidence bag, all the way from the FBI nursery. Terri thanked him and offered him a cold water from the fridge before he headed back to the Hoover building. She automatically checked Ellie, at both ends; all seemed fine, Ellie was probably just expressing her discontent at a disrupted routine. The FBI nursery prided itself on a very high standard of child-care.

Other NCIS agents had helpfully brought Harm's Lexus and Terri's Saab home to the driveway and Terri had been formally notified of a follow-up after-action medical consultation, scheduled for the next morning in Bethesda (" _SOP after a smack on the head, doc_ " as the corpsman had explained it). Because it was clearly for her benefit, she had no hesitation in indicating that she would comply, but requested that the appointment be timed " _away from the early-morning please_ ".

Harm brought her a cup of tea.

"Everything closed?" he asked softly.

Terri nodded slowly, holding her painful neck: "my paperwork and statements are completed and filed by NCIS; Jordi Parker has Dar-Lin for therapy and the autopsy on Charlie Lynch is on its way to being rapidly closed off - Ducky Mallard at NCIS is running with that one, to eliminate any hint of doubt or connivance, given that *we* were both involved in the case".

Harm had also spoken to the Admiral (who had already received highly-complimentary updates from the NCIS Director Tom Morrow) and Harm had been approved to accompany Terri on her late-morning journey to Bethesda tomorrow for the after-action health-check.

"I've had good news from the Admiral; Alan and Jackie Mattoni (he's one of my fellow JAG lawyers) have expressed a strong interest in adopting (not just fostering) Dar-Lin".

Terri looked up at him. "Tomcat, that is great news; we should do all that we can to support that adoption. This is a great end to a really shitty day". She realised that her headache was getting worse.

Terri realised that many hours had passed since she had last found time to express; as Ellie woke up again in the familiar sounds and smells of home, she began rooting at Terri's breasts. It seemed easiest to just raise the NCIS sweatshirt, undo her underclothing and feed Ellie naturally, so Terri started.

Harm settled in the study to catch up on the JAG casefiles which he had planned, that morning, to work on during the day, before the panic calls to the Admiral from NCIS and the FBI which had seen him flying off to Philadelphia. He rattled through them in just short of two hours, closing everything up and locking them into his briefcase for the next working day.

Half an hour later, Harm walked back into the lounge and saw, in the dim light, the heart-warming sight of his daughter fast asleep, safely perched on top of her mother - his wife - on the sofa in their home. Terri's wedding band and engagement ring sparkled in the dim light as she held Ellie securely in her sleep.

 **Harm knew that his life was complete. He offered up a quick prayer for the Marine, the unknown civilian woman and the young female agent who had lost their lives during the day. As to Charlie Lynch, there were no words - Hell could not claim him quickly enough.**

Harm curled up alongside Terri and their child, swiftly falling asleep. Everyone slept peacefully until they were awoken some time around midnight, when Harm rolled over and fell off the sofa!

Terri's comment, which floated through the still night air, encapsulated their week; "Oh Hell, Tomcat, can't you just land quietly anywhere?"

Ellie joined in the debate, signalling that she was hungry once more, so Terri ministered to Ellie's needs. Afterwards, everyone headed upstairs to a real bed.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Wednesday 26th May 1999 - 03:48hrs EST**

 **The new home of Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

By 03:48hrs, the Coulter-Rabb family unit was sleeping peacefully. Wednesday morning was not going to be an early start. They could have a lie-in, as a family, before the late-morning run to Bethesda for the after-action health-check.

They could start planning their activities for the Memorial Day weekend; this would see the first public outing for the Coulter-Rabb family unit, at the JAG sports day.

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase Seven - "Somebody's wife - His wife" ****

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**


	8. Sports Day : Body Talk pt 1

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 8 - parts 11 and 12)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole A/N.

 **A/N:** Allusion to canon - "Second Sight" (S04Ep20), first broadast on 27-Apr-1999, and "Body Talk" (S05Ep24), first broadcast on 16-May-2000.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Phase Eight of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "JAG Sports day and then on to Body Talk"**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 8 - Part 11 - "Meeting Mac - Memorial Day Sports Day 1999".**

 **Wednesday 26th May 1999 - 03:48hrs EST**

 **The new home of Lt Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

By 03:48hrs, the Coulter-Rabb family unit was sleeping peacefully. Wednesday morning was not going to be an early start. They could have a lie-in, as a family, before the late-morning run to Bethesda for the after-action health-check. Harm was, naturally, worried about the vivid bruising on Teresa's neck.

They hoped to be reassured by the medics. Following the hospital check-up, Harm and Terri could then start planning their activities for the Memorial Day weekend; this would see the first public outing for the Coulter-Rabb family unit, at the JAG sports day.

Terri was hoping to get to know Mac, now that her marriage to Harm was completed. Terri wanted to get to know Harm's circle of friends, so that she knew for sure who was looking out for her husband's interests. Following the original "skirmish" in the Arizona desert during the Jimmy Blackhorse case, she particularly wanted to understand the Marine Major better and to be certain that Mac had Harm's back - because, as Harm's wife, Terri was sure (from his comments) that Harm would always look out for Mac's interests.

Meeting Mac in the informal setting of the JAG sports day might just be the key to getting the dark-haired marine robot to open up, Terri rationalised. She really wanted to get to know the woman inside the uniform and to reassure Mac that, despite the marriage, Harm would still be looking out for her; she felt that Mac had few friends and she endorsed her husband's continuing friendship - and working relationship - with Mac.

 **Thursday 27th May 1999 - 18:17hrs EST**

 **The new home of Lt Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Terri was very pleased to lay down on the sofa once more, with Ellie in her porta-crib alongside her. The (very thorough) examinations at Bethesda for the after-action health-check had revealed no long-term damage, but the bruising of her neck was now fully-developed. Terri had seen enough bruising over the years to know that a silk scarf would be needed to cover the "Technicolor" display of bruises which adorned her neck. The bruising also meant that she was temporarily barred from driving a car for a week until her mobility (i.e. her ability to turn her head and see when pulling out of a side street or onto a highway) improved. This would likely mean she would be serving in a supporting role at the JAG sports day - and Harm was appointed as her chauffeur...

Harm ordered a quick takeaway meal and then "hot chocolate all round" was the order at 21:30hrs, as she coaxed Harm into bed and lay for a while, just enjoying the simple pleasure of listening to her husband's steady breathing alongside her. She looked at their matching wedding bands and sighed contentedly. The past three days had tested their marriage and shown it to be rock solid; she and Harm clearly worked well as a team.

Despite the ache in her neck, Terri promptly fell asleep - until her daemons returned before the dawn.

 **Friday 28th May 1999 - 04:49hrs EST**

 **The new home of Lt Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

At dawn, Terri found herself tossing and turning in the bed, once more re-living the events of Charlie's final bloody rampage. For some reason, she remembered the dead agent's shoes, the unnamed woman falling dead and then lying still with sightless eyes looking up at the sky, the bloody and ruined clothes, then the final splintering of Charlie's body as she stomped down with all the force that her annoyed and terrified body could muster, to keep her safe and to protect young Dar-Lin.

By the grey light of dawn, Terri gave up attempts at sleep and walked into the kitchen, closed the door behind her to avoid waking the rest of the house, then dug out her mother's long-stored recipe book. FBI Agent Teresa "soccer mom" Coulter-Rabb was about to start baking cookies and cakes ready for the event on Sunday! The idea of "catering therapy" sounded attractive.

Eventually, the smell of warm cookies penetrated the kitchen door and Terri suddenly realised that her work was being studied by two sets of beady eyes - belonging to one tall husband and their daughter, cradled in Daddy's arms.

 **Sunday 30th May 1999 - 08:28hrs EST**

 ** **The new home of Lt Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,****

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Terri had slept far better on the Friday night and, on the Saturday night, she managed to sleep right through to Sunday morning (because Harm had taken responsibility for all of Ellie's night-time feeds) so she was feeling pretty close to human as she arose and started the day. She fed and changed Ellie on autopilot (Terri was still keeping her caffeine intake low, despite Trish's bullish pronouncement when they had met) and then Terri joined Harm in the shower as they started their day.

Harm directed the warm spray across her neck and shoulders, gently massaging away a lot of the residual stiffness from the battering which her body had received from Charlie earlier in the week. Her body had loosened up, so Terri was giving some thought to taking part in the JAG sports activities in the park.

 **Sunday 30th May 1999 - 11:45hrs EST**

 ** **Larry Graves Park, 300 Hillwood Ave, Falls Church, VA 22046, USA****

Harriet Sims-Roberts had organised the JAG sports day with her customary efficiency in one of the local parks in Falls Church, enabling everyone to arrive and set up ahead of a series of activities which were to culminate in the softball championships before the barbecue was lit at 14:30hrs, ready to serve hot food at 15:00hrs.

Terri sat in the shade with Ellie alongside another new mother, whose husband worked in the Records Division in the JAG HQ; it was good to compare notes with another mother who understood the pressures of the legal organisation, although Carrie was quite impressed when Terri revealed what she did for a living. She and Carrie took it in turns to watch their little ones whilst the other went to play softball.

Terri managed to get rid of a significant amount of frustration during the softball match and improved her team's score from "pitiful" to "close to winning". As she walked back to the batting cage where her team were gathered, Harm gently took her by the arm, kissed her and whispered "wow, Tiger, that's a mean swing you've got there".

Terri smiled back. "Yep Tomcat, after this week and this softball game, I can honestly say that I truly feel chilled out". As this was their first large-venue public outing as a couple, Harm and Terri had expected to be the "object of interest", so they were relaxed about all the looks which were directed in their direction.

As she rested between games and breast-fed Ellie discreetly, she noticed "Mac" Mackenzie heading in her direction. Mac waited until Ellie was satisfied, burped and put down before she approached and eventually settled alongside her. Terri welcomed Mac warmly and was very pleased (and proud) to introduce the Major to Ellie. Mac was mesmerised by Ellie's smile. "No doubt who her father is, I can see" she commented.

"Indeed, Mac (may I call you Mac, because that's how my husband always refers to you, or would you prefer Sarah as my friend?)" replied Terri. She was simply going to mark her territory (without flashing the wedding ring and engagement ring) but was very clear that she would be here, today at the sports day, as Mrs Rabb. "She is definitely a Rabb, with the peaceful temperament of a Coulter". She tickled Ellie's stomach, inspiring a little gurgling chuckle from her daughter.

Mac looked wistfully at the domestic scene of motherhood playing out before her. "He's lucky and blessed to have the two of you".

"Yes Mac, he is, but I also know that you have helped him as he healed from the Diane disaster, so in some ways I know that I am grateful to you for handing over Harmon Rabb in good shape, as well as helping us choose one of little Ellie's Christian names" replied Terri. "I have seen the photographs and, I must say Major, the resemblance and similarity to Diane is amazing. I guess you've already been asked if you have a twin out there?"

"Well, yes I have been asked, several times, as different people gain awareness of the Diane Schonke murder case. Every time, my answer is ' _not that I know so far_ '; when I met my Mom last month (for the first time in about 15 years) at my father's funeral in California, I clean forgot to ask her about this "missing twin" scenario over Diane. She never alluded to anything other than me as her daughter, I just guess it's one of those mysteries, like everyone has a double somewhere. Plus, because Diane's body was cremated after the enquiry, I have no way back through DNA tracing". Mac smiled and, after asking Terri's permission, tickled Ellie's tummy and smiled at her. Ellie responded with a big wide smile and a happy gurgle.

"So, any plans to start a family Mac?" asked Terri. She noticed what looked like a sad frown briefly cross Mac's face, then her visage brightened and she looked at Terri.

"Well Terri, the three things every woman wants are a good career, a good man and lots of comfortable shoes. I have achieved one and three (especially three) but I have, persistently over the years, been SOL when it comes to the middle item on that list - and it hasn't been for lack of trying on my part". Mac smiled. "I guess I just have to keep looking".

"Well Mac, if it helps, I was enjoying the view from the shelf when you and Harm appeared in Arizona last year. I think I can say that I owe my happiness to the Denae people for doubting that Jimmy Blackhorse was coming home, because that got me re-activated from the Navy Reserves and then I met my husband. Didn't you explore that Denae lawyer, Paul someone?"

"Yes, for two evenings - sadly he was more interested in something closer to his heart than me - himself! I should have guessed when I saw the ponytail."

Both women laughed knowingly, pondering the fickleness of men. Terri began dozing off, but jerked awake suddenly. Mac looked across at her, with a concerned expression on her face. "You OK there, Terri?"

"Hmm, well I had an odd dream in the early hours of Friday morning, and I've still not caught up on sleep plus I have to watch the painkillers as I'm still breast-feeding - it's a bit of a juggling act, plus I've just run around the softball field like a gazelle".

She shrugged, and kissed little Ellie. "It was odd: I dealt with Charlie and his violence without problem at the time, but now I have time to think...….".

Terri shrugged helplessly.

Mac leaned across. "There is no shame or problem in seeking help - hell, as a doctor yourself, you should know that better than most".

Mac paused, looking quizzically at Terri; "Or is it a case that doctors "really" do make the worst patients? Somehow, I have always doubted the ' _physician heal thyself_ ' mantra".

The two women laughed, sealing their emerging friendship. At that point, Ellie surfaced, grizzled slightly and announced that a diaper change was required. Mac offered to assist and Terri accepted, resulting in a "seven out of ten" rating from Terri.

Eventually Harm returned, with the news that their team had won by one point. Everyone headed over to the food tables.

That evening, as they settled into bed at the end of a lovely, exhausting, active day, Terri rolled across and placed her hand on Harm's chest. He looked at her.

"Harm, Mac really seemed to be trying to be friends and to be nice today; I got to know her better, I really liked her and we discussed Diane - Mac is discounting the 'twins' theory for now but forgot to ask her mom when they last met up, at the funeral for her dad last month".

Harm frowned momentarily, then his face lightened. "Yes, they only look(ed) alike - the personalities are (or I should say - were) as different as night and day". As he said this he had a moment of _deja vu_ , until he realised that he had said those exact works to Mac on that fateful night when he had finally uncovered Diane's accusatory letter, leading to the Holbarth confrontation on the quayside (and Mac's discovery of the Diane photograph in her USN uniform).

He hugged Terri and kissed her, rubbing a thumb across her nipple. She moaned. "Come on Mrs Rabb, let's forget the past and the ghosts; I don't feel particularly tired, even after all that fresh air; plus tomorrow is a public holiday".

Terri stared deep into his eyes, with a broad grin on her face.

"Well then Tomcat, as my neck is much improved, what do you have in mind?"

 **Memorial Day - Monday, 31 May 1999**

 **Vietnam Memorial Washington DC**

Terri and Harm, carrying little Ellie in her porta-crib, walked steadily to the black panel which bore the name of Harmon Rabb Sr. Memorial Day would now (for as long as the Coulter-Rabb family were within reach of Washington) always be inked in (together with Christmas Eve) in the family kitchen calendar for a visit to the long black memorial.

"Hi Dad, we're back here, this time in the warmth of summer, to visit with you and for you to see how little Ellie is growing. We'll be back on Christmas Eve and you know that you are always in our hearts. We live here in Washington, so you are always close by in our hearts."

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Over the next year, through the rest of 1999, the Millennium and into spring of 2000, Harm's workload saw a varied set of cases cross his path**.

Terri's Forensic Research Oversight & Development Office (aka "F.R.O.D.O.") at the FBI scored several high-profile successes during the same time, but she never again had to summon Hammer to rescue her from a mad Charlie Lynch character. Their two careers operated and developed more-or-less independently of each other. This outcome helped to reinforce the faith which Harm and Terri's supervisors had placed in them.

Alan and Jackie Mattoni were successful in their adoption of Dar-Lin following the initial fostering, so the young, underweight, withdrawn girl began to emerge, caterpillar-like, from the cocoon of fear which had held her for too long; she emerged into the warmth of Alan and Jackie's loving home and the prospects were good. As sometimes happens to "childless" couples who adopt a child, Jackie discovered in March 2000 that she was expecting a surprise baby. Once Alan had recovered from the shock, he was often seen strutting proudly around the JAG bull-pen.

Jackie and Alan ensured that Dar-Lin was fully involved in all aspects of the baby's development as the " _big sister_ " (Harm suggested that this new factor should be emphasised in the final adoption hearing, to cement the case that Dar-Lin was becoming part of a real family who loved her, wanted her and could incorporate her into a sibling relationship).

Over a beer one evening, Alan sounded out Harm about the name of "Anne" if the baby should be a daughter, as a homage to "Annie" - similar but different. Harm could only suggest that Alan and Jackie speak with Terri for a name suggestion, as part of their decision-making process. Terri's suggestion brought her Tennessee roots to bear, with a suggestion of "Annabelle" for the new baby's name; Dar-Lin was often seen talking to "my sister Annabelle" as she addressed Jackie Mattoni's developing bump whenever Jackie was sitting or relaxing in her chair at home. Terri and Harm were really proud of how that story had wrapped up. Alan would later be seen, on Thanksgiving night, handing out cigars to mark Annabelle's successful entry into the Mattoni household.

Harm returned (briefly) to flying (" _to get it out of your system_ " is how Terri condescendingly approved his venture), before his kindly CAG took him to one side and pointed out the facts of life (" _you are up against younger flyers with more flight experience, but YOU have a real chance, as a great lawyer, to do good work across the Navy and beyond. Hell, you don't need me to tell you - you've already decided_ "). Harm took the hint and arranged to return to JAG HQ. The arrival of his second DFC brought down the curtain nicely on his carrier-borne career, but he retained his six-monthly flight quals.

AJ Chegwidden welcomed him back with just a week of "grunt" work on a backlog of simple cases (" _to get you back in the swing of things here at JAG HQ_ "). Harm cleared the backlog without complaint, because Terri had explained to him (every night during his first week!) that Senior officers should leave their Peter Pan attitude behind when they get their second (or even first) stripe. She believed that Chegwidden had, in fact, recognised Harm's hero status and had decided to break him in gently, clearing a minor backlog before his star attorney was once more firing on all legal cylinders.

Terri was also glad to have him back at home. Whilst she fully supported him as " _the wife of a naval aviator_ ", the burden of supporting Ellie alone whilst holding down a full-time job at the FBI after her return to full-time working (even with occasional supportive visits from Trish and Frank) had been quite stressful.

Somehow, Terri's homily struck home with Harm and she made sense; he accepted her rationale, even though he would probably have blown a gasket had Admiral Chegwidden chosen the same "Peter Pan" analogy when he welcomed Harm back to Falls Church! Sometimes the only sensible response for a husband is an agreeable, meek, obedient " _yes darling_ "!

Returning to his successful legal career within JAG, Harm found himself revelling in a wide range of military cases. He successfully defended Elizabeth "Skates" Hawkes in a court-martial which had been convened after an LSO landing incident on her carrier; he argued a case before the Australian courts (Terri loved taking Ellie to the " _land down under_ " as she accompanied Harm and she laughed at him wearing the horse-hair wig in the court) before the start of the new millennium saw him working on cases involving an overdue submarine from the day of Pearl Harbour in 1941 and an argument about who was a better SeAL.

Every time, Harm delivered his customary high-quality work and was delighted to return home to the Nebraska Avenue nest to rejoin his wife and daughter. Every case stretched Harm in different ways, but he loved returning home to the house on Nebraska Avenue to his wife and daughter. In this respect, Harm had grown up, settled down and had found true peace in his life. Peter Pan's wings had been well and truly (and permanently) clipped, and he was the better man for it.

Terri was delighted to celebrate, with him, his promotion to full Commander in November 1999. Chegwidden was pleased to report that this was built upon his previous fitreps from JAG, the second DFC plus a favourable fit-rep from the carrier captain (where Harm had multi-tasked by serving not only as a pilot but also by keeping his legal hand in tune as the ship-board JAG), so the Coulter-Rabb family saw in the new millennium on a tidal wave of optimism centred around the party for young Ellie's first birthday.

Life for Harm, Teresa and Ellie was good, settled and they were truly a happy family.

Then, in May 2000, a case entered the JAG system which had the potential to shatter Harm and Terri's domestic tranquility and tear them apart. Ultimately however, the case would build a rock-solid bond between Harm and Terri; but the initial events were disturbing.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 8 - Part 12 - "Body Talk part 1".**

 **Thursday 11th May 2000 - 09:00hrs EST**

 **Conference Room, JAG HQ, Falls Church. VA**.

"Admiral on deck".

"As you were, everyone; good morning".

The Admiral adjusted his reading glasses and opened the first file on the top of his stack.

"Commander Rabb - I have a review case for you; a Navy Captain topped his wife at Naval Station Norfolk back in '89; the recent case review isn't happy about the quality of his defence, because it was the first capital murder case for his 26-year-old defence attorney. Close up your office door - you're going to run a case review over the next 24 hours". Years before, the Admiral had heard the British slang for "murdered" and he liked the sound of "topped", so he occasionally used the phrase in his day-to-day dealings.

There was only one answer when handed an 11-year-old case file with a tight deadline.

"I'm on it, Admiral."

In the course of the next day, Harm read himself through the file and, by his own assessment, agreed that the court case of Captain Thomas Chaddock looked thin. The files appeared to have been filetted, but the transcripts were what gave Harm most concern.

He was quite late getting home that evening to Nebraska Avenue, apologising to Terri as they ate late (Ellie had already gone down after a good feed, so Terri was ready to cuddle with Harm on the settee before they headed to bed to start the weekend).

There was nothing for it - he had to head out to the military penitentiary at Fort Leavenworth in Kansas. Whilst planning his time there, he arranged a cell visit to Mac's uncle Matt O'Hara (the cause of his very first caseload pairing with Mac back in 1996). When he called Mac to let her know, she was grateful and arranged to drop a letter into his office on the Friday, for onward transmission to Uncle Matt. Harm ensured that he had everything packed for an early flight on the Monday morning.

Over the weekend, it transpired that Captain Chaddock was being brought up to the Washington Navy Yard as part of the appeal process, so Harm (after informing Mac of the changed venue) reluctantly mailed Mac's letter to Kansas. He promised to book a telephone call to Kansas, so that he could explain his non-attendance to Matt O'Hara.

Mac understood his dilemma and she thanked him for his offer anyway. She took this as a hint to book a trip to Kansas for herself, when time permitted. Terri was pleased that Harm would not be starting his working week with an early start to catch a flight to Kansas.

 **Monday 15th May 2000 - 11:45hrs EST**

 **Interview Room, Military Detention Centre,**

 **Navy Yard, Washington DC**.

"She never writes".

After passing through the stringent checks which were part and parcel of accessing a detention facility, Harm had found himself in the interview pen, staring at depressing grey cinderblock walls with depressing grey ceilings and a depressing grey floor, with the plump, depressed, bright-orange-clad figure of the former Captain Thomas Chaddock.

Ensign Chaddock cut a pathetic figure. It was clear to Harm that the man was close to giving up. A life sentence can do that to a person, especially when (as Harm was increasingly beginning to believe after reading the files) there might have been a miscarriage of justice. Adding in the burning sense of injustice, the lack of family contact and the uncaring attitude which was institutionalised within a military penitentiary, he realised that Chaddock's depressed, listless state was easy to understand.

Chaddock took Harm through the basics of the case, confirming Harm's reading of the file, then dropped into the conversation that, alongside regretting that his wife had died (and denying any involvement) he lamented that his only child wouldn't return his letters.

"I have written to her so many time in the past ten years; I just wish that Teresa would write to me once. She never called - I'm dead to her".

A very loud alarm bell went "CLANG" in the back of Harm's mind. How many USN Captains, with a daughter named Teresa, were in Leavenworth serving life for murdering their wife?

"Well, I can't blame her, letting the stress of my command eat me alive, trading my family for a bottle".

This backed up some of the background material in the file, which Harm had read before visiting.

"My two biggest regrets - abusing my wife and forcing Teresa to hate me".

 ***CLANG***

Harm looked closely at Chaddock, half-remembering a faded family portrait from Terri's home in Millington.

Surely, it couldn't be...?

And yet, it made sense...…

But surely….

"Commander!" Chaddock was trying to attract Harm's attention. To his considerable embarrassment, it was clear to Harm that he had "zoned out" and had missed Chaddock's conversation - Chaddock was obviously worried.

Reading the man's face, Harm could see Chaddock re-setting his expectations of Harm - as a good lawyer - lower by the second.

"Sorry, I was just struck by something you said. Why do you think there may be a reason that your daughter hasn't been in touch?"

"Well, she blamed us for her divorce from Rory as well as blaming me for my wife's death".

 ***CLANG***

"and your wife's name was...?" Harm was frantically leafing through the case file, dropping papers left, right and centre on the floor.

" _Boy, this makes me look professional_ " he lamented to himself.

"Her name was Ellen - and I loved her and I did *not* kill her, Commander".

 ***CLANG***

"and this happened at...?"

Chaddock finally showed some emotion - an intriguing combination of annoyance and disgust at Harm's apparent deficiencies.

"Naval Station Norfolk, 1989".

Chaddock paused and glared in exasperation at Harm. "Dear god, Commander, have you even *read* my file?"

 ***CLANG-CLANG***

A church tower of alarm bells was now cascading a repeating peal of sound in Harm's poor, over-taxed brain.

This was just too much coincidence - and proof of Terri's oft-stated theory (in conjunction with experience from her FBI work) that, just occasionally, God has a really vicious sense of humour.

Harm looked Chaddock in the eye. He needed to redeem himself in the eyes of this prisoner - and fast.

"errr, tell me, Captain Chaddock; what name does your daughter go by?"

"Well, she kept her married name when she divorced her husband Rory, so she is Doctor Teresa Ellen Coulter".

" _Oh, holy crap_ " thought Harm to himself, as the realization sank in: " _you'll be defending your father-in-law_ ".

"I know her. Your daughter is a forensic pathologist; she's worked on a few cases with me and we've become quite close".

Realisation dawned across Chaddock's face. He smiled reassuringly at Harm. "Oh, I understand now...". Chaddock's words hung in the air.

Chaddock smiled conspiratorially and his next words rang in Harm's ears: " _You're a principled man - if anything you would over-compensate. You've given me hope, Commander; don't jump ship on me now_ ".

Harm thought for a minute, looking at the expectant Ensign Chaddock across the table. Chaddock raised an eyebrow, waiting for more.

Harm decided to dive straight in - there was no point in half-measures. Boy oh boy, Terri was going to enjoy this story tonight - or break his legs!

"Well, Captain Chaddock, I don't know how to break this to you but I have some more news for you".

Harm reached for his wallet, and opened his briefcase to retrieve the triple-fold photograph case which he carried everywhere with him.

" **Captain Chaddock, there are a few things that you need to know** ".

 **.**

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase Eight - "Body Talk part one" ****

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**


	9. Body Talk pt 2: A view to a killing

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 9 - parts 13 and 14)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N.

 **A/N:** Allusion to canon: "Body Talk" (S05Ep24), first broadcast on 16-May-2000, along with "Surface Warfare" (S05Ep25) first broadcast on 23-May-2000.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Phase Nine of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Body Talk pt 2" and "A view to a killing"**

A/N 24-06-2018: ...and now, on with Chapter Nine - "Body Talk part two, leading to Body Talk part three".

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 9 - Part 13 - "Body Talk pt 2".**

 **Monday 15th May 2000 - 13:10hrs EST**

 **Interview Room, Military Detention Centre,**

 **Navy Yard, Washington DC**.

"...errr, tell me, Captain Chaddock; what name does your daughter go by?"

"Well, she kept her married name when she divorced her husband Rory, so she is Doctor Teresa Ellen Coulter".

" ** _Oh, holy crap_** " thought Harm to himself, as the realisation sank in: " _ **you'll be defending your father-in-law**_ ".

Although " _daughter of the accused_ " had been plastered across all the case files, the woman in question had never actually been named. Harm was now suddenly - and painfully - aware of the identity of the woman also known as " _the victim's daughter_ " in his case files for Thomas Chaddock.

He looked at Chaddock; "I know her. Your daughter is a forensic pathologist; she's worked on a few cases with me and we've become quite close".

Realisation dawned across Chaddock's face. He smiled reassuringly at Harm. "Oh, I understand now...". Chaddock's words hung in the air, then he smiled conspiratorially and his next words rang in Harm's ears: " _You're a principled man - if anything you would over-compensate. You've given me hope, Commander; don't jump ship on me now_ ".

Harm thought for a minute, looking at the expectant Ensign Chaddock across the table. Chaddock raised an eyebrow, waiting for more. Harm decided to dive straight in - there was no point in half-measures. Boy oh boy, Terri was going to enjoy this story tonight - or break his legs!

"Well, Captain Chaddock, I don't know how to break this to you but I have some more news for you".

Harm reached for his wallet with the family portrait in it, then opened his briefcase to retrieve the triple-fold photograph case which he carried everywhere with him.

He opened the portrait folder and placed it on the table in front of Chaddock, then he looked the older man in the eyes.

" **Captain Chaddock, there are a few things that you need to know** ".

The family portrait from Harm's wallet, the wedding portrait, Ellie's birth portrait (with her doting parents) and Terri's official USNR photograph were pored over by Chaddock.

"She hasn't aged a day - that's her mother's genes" he commented with pride.

Harm smiled proudly: "And wait until you meet your 16-month-old grand-daughter".

Chaddock's face lit up with realisation: then he looked back at the photograph frames. He focussed in on the picture of Terri in her USNR uniform.

"But that name badge - COULTER-RABB - that is a nice touch, Commander; thank you for sharing these photographs. Might I please ask for copies in due course?"

"You certainly may" Harm nodded "but I plan on you seeing them in the flesh". He smiled at Chaddock; "If all goes to plan, you can meet them yourself. I am not bringing my daughter into a prison, but I am hopeful for a far-better outcome". Harm was reminded of the line from the Humphrey Bogart film "Casablanca" - " _I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship_ ".

Chaddock finally cracked into a wide, beaming smile - probably the first time since his original trial a decade previously. He could, finally, see light at the end of the tunnel, thanks to his newly-revealed son-in-law. But much hard work lay ahead. For instance, who would pick up the prosecution task?

 **Monday 15th May 2000 - 14:58hrs EST**

 ** **Conference Room, JAG HQ, Falls Church. VA**.**

"Hey Mac, I need your opinion and help".

Harm had agonised all the way back to Falls Church, about how to break the news to Terri. As he arrived back into JAG HQ, he was none the wiser. Chaddock's words rang in his ears: " _You're a principled man - if anything you would over-compensate. You've given me hope, Commander; don't jump ship on me now_ ".

He had popped into JAG HQ, to sound out his Marine work partner.

She turned to him and smiled knowingly. "I understand your retrial involves Commander Coulter's father?"

Harm snorted. "Yes, one of those times where two lives intersect and not a traffic light in sight".

After reading the case files, Mac and Harm stood alongside each other in Mac's office; Mac had listened silently as Harm outlined his discovery and his dilemma at sitting between Terri (his wife and the mother of his child) and Thomas Chaddock (his client, and the newly-realised father of his wife and grand-father to his child). She placed a comforting hand on his arm. "You know, Harm, sometimes married life is a real bitch". Mac was sympathetic as she dumped a thick pile of papers onto her already-overloaded desk as Harm slid into a chair.

He smiled up at her: "Yeah Mac, I had kinda worked that out for myself in the interview cell with Chaddock!" He slumped in his chair and covered his face. "Oh hell Mac, how do I navigate this with Teresa?"

Mac shrugged helplessly. "I really haven't a clue on this one Harm and I'm not the expert to advise on married life - remember, I spent most of the physically-connected phase of my brief marriage drunk".

Then her face brightened. "Hey, are you still in contact with that shrink who you defended after the cough syrup and Nativity car crash incident?"

"Oh, Jordan Parker?. I've not spoken with Jordi for a while, but you might just have come up with the best idea that's popped up all day. Thanks Marine".

He stood up to leave Mac's office and smiled back at his work partner. "Thanks Mac, I really valued that opinion".

She smiled: "Any time, squid; remember your friends are here for you".

Harm closed the door as he left Mac's office - which saved him from seeing her bitter tears as she lambasted herself - pointlessly - for letting him slip through her fingers. Mac knew (had known for a while, she admitted to herself) that he wasn't coming back; he was married to Teresa, he and Teresa had a child, he had his parents (who had obviously welcomed Teresa into the wider Rabb family as their one-and-only daughter-in-law) and now he had a father-in-law.

In contrast, her father was dead, her mother was god-knows-where, her marriage was long-over and she had no proof that she could even conceive, despite significant amounts of practising during an embarrassingly-wide range of one-night stands.

Once more, Mac could only lament her failure to commit to Harm after staring, wide-eyed and longing, at a wide-open goal for two years. She had to face it: she had missed her chance with the fly-boy aviator turned lawyer, leaving the goal wide open for Mother Teresa. And the Tennessee Tornado had snapped him up.

"Damn".

 **Monday 15th May 2000 - 16:47hrs EST**

 ** **Conference Room, JAG HQ, Falls Church. VA**.**

It took a while to track down Jordi, but eventually the two old friends were chatting amicably over the phone. Jordi sounded out Harm about the "joys" of fatherhood, after gently ribbing him about the fact that he had dived into fatherhood after (or despite?) her strong professional assessment of him as a serial commitment-phobe. However, her long-practiced counselling experience enabled her to make a few points to Harm, which assisted in easing his dilemma over the potential Terri-vs-Chaddock minefield, together with a potential way through the impasse between an imprisoned father and his estranged daughter.

Jordi applied her customary counselling techniques, not suggesting anything directly but nudging Harm to discuss his dilemma and to sound out his own ideas on how *he* could deal with - and eventually resolve - the dilemma which was *his* problem. Harm was once-more reminded of just how good Jordi Parker was at her job. At the end of the conversation, he thanked her warmly. Her warm chuckle echoed down the phone.

"Oh, and when you've solved this one, don't go digging up any more landmines in your marriage, Harm. Remember, I want to meet Teresa; she must be one helluva gal to take you on". The smile in her voice left Harm with a warm feeling as he closed the telephone call, then he looked up. Bud was standing in Harm's doorway - as second chair, he was beavering away in the old Chaddock trial files, looking for evidence, discrepancies and anything which he described as " _a pebble in the shoe of logic_ ". Something about Ellen Chaddock's death in 1989 didn't sit right.

"Sir, have you spoken with Major Mackenzie about this Chaddock case?"

"Yes Bud, Mac and I were chatting about it in the hallway and then in her office not long ago; why?"

"Well sir, the Admiral handed Major Mackenzie the prosecution file this morning whilst you were meeting Ensign Chaddock in the brig".

At which point poor Harm's day filled to overflowing! How could that marine *cow* not have told him that she held the opposing brief?

Slowly, yet systematically, Harmon Rabb began to kick his office to pieces.

 **Monday 15th May 2000 - 18:52hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Harm felt much happier, after talking with Mac and particularly Jordi, about his dilemma. Thus it was that he drove home with a feeling of confidence that evening. He had agonised all day about how to break the news to Terri. As he drove home, he was none the wiser. Upon arrival however, it didn't take long for him to receive a crystal-clear indication of Terri's view on the matter once he had broached the subject!

Terri's face had flushed red with anger at the news. " _Harm; I'm *all* over the transcripts_ ".

Harm replied valiantly "But as ' _daughter of the victim_ ', never named". Crap, how could he not have seen this days ago?

Terri's response was not encouraging. "Harm, let me state clearly my expectation that your loyalty, as my husband, is first and foremost to *me* as your wife. I thought you would have worked this out by now - for cryin' out loud, how long have we been married?". Harm's very own Tennessee Tiger was not at all happy.

"Terri, it was the defence counsel's first capital case, at the age of 26. The defence was inadequate. He failed to cross-examine. I have to do this; look, have you considered paying him a visit - you've known him for 23 years out of the 33 years of your life".

"No. Look Harm, I don't give a flyin' crap if the original counsel is now the Chief friggin' Justice of the Supreme Court! There was a time when I loved my father; I won't let him trade on that."

Suddenly, Terri paused and her jaw dropped as realisation dawned.

 **"My God, Tomcat, this isn't about me - nor Ellie - is it? It's not about your wife and daughter - who, may I remind you *again*, are meant to be your number one priority!"**

Terri warmed to her theme, her frustration with Harm's attitude boiling over.

 **" **It's about you and your mythical ' _happy families_ ' obsession about your Dad, isn't it? You want to try to 'fix' the Chaddock family because Vietnam took your family away! Dammit Harm, how could you be so friggin' dumb?"****

By this stage, Terri was in tears and little Ellie was picking up on the unhappy vibes in the household.

Eventually - and some time later - Terri calmed down somewhat and the discussion continued. Terri wasn't convinced, despite a well-mannered and long-ranging debate throughout the evening as she comforted Ellie and exchanged views with her husband.

That night, for the first time in his married life since he and Terri had moved into the same home in DC, Harm spent the night sleeping in the guest bedroom.

 **Tuesday 16th May 2000 - 05:18hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

After a miserable night in the wrong bed, Harm was aware of Terri moving around the house in the grey light of the pre-dawn, checking on Ellie (he heard his daughter's contented gurgle as her mother tickled her tummy after changing her diaper). The next six months would see the start of potty training, because their daughter was growing up fast. Harm heard Terri washing her hands in the en-suite bathroom to their bedroom, then he felt the bed move as his wife lifted the duvet and slid in alongside him.

"Hello Tiger, how's our daughter?"

"She's OK Tomcat, and I reckon she'll be dry by Christmas. She's developing well, Harm - must be that good genetic stock which she carries". In the dark, Harm could hear Terri's chuckle vibrate through her body and she snuggled up to his back. He turned round, took Terri in his arms and hugged her close. He knew that *he* owned the responsibility to put this right - and his continuing, successful marriage was too-important a prize for him to fuck it up.

Simultaneously, both husband and wife said " _I'm sorry_ ". Spontaneously, they both laughed.

He had to get the phrasing right: "Teresa, I'm sorry to be arguing with you darling; it isn't how I want my marriage to be - and I waited a long time to find (or be found by) what I know to be the right woman with whom I will spend the rest of my life".

Terri gave him an "in": she stroked his hand as they lay close together in the guestroom bed. "Yeah, I know that Harm - but *we* need to agree (and re-focus) *your* priorities. You are not a single Sir Galahad solving the problems of the world and slaying dragons". For a moment she recalled his stories of being pursued by "Dragon Lady" Allison Krennick, but she decided to leave the old cougar un-mentioned - the only possible meaning would, perhaps, have been "laying dragons" in the case of Allison Krennick, who had apparently dropped out of sight when Harm had been (incorrectly) accused of the murder of Diane Schonke.

She kissed him, slowly and with increasing passion as he responded to her advances. Half an hour later the bed was wrecked and they lay, cuddling closely, returning to Planet Earth after an unexpectedly pleasant and exhausting interlude somewhere in low Earth orbit. They fell asleep, arms and legs comfortably intertwined, until the alarm clock woke them for the Tuesday morning schedules of breakfast, baby/child, uniforms and out to work.

Over breakfast that morning, Terri suggested some ground rules for what she would be calling " _this Chaddock murder re-trial_ ".

"Harm, as and when you want to discuss this case with me, let's do it away from our home on truly neutral territory - either at JAG or you can pop over to the FBI. I'm not having my marriage - and my marital home - harmed by this historical case".

"OK Terri, that seems very sensible. Thanks darling - because I really *do* need your support right now". Harm was only too pleased to agree; he kissed his wife as he grabbed his briefcase and cover before heading out to Falls Church.

 **Thursday 18th May 2000 - 10:03hrs EST**

 ** **Conference Room, JAG HQ, Falls Church. VA**.**

The detailed research into the background of the death of Ellen Chaddock continued to throw up anomalies and disturbing signs that the original case against Captain Chaddock (and the subsequent trial and conviction) had been based upon incomplete (or even just plain wrong) evidence. Eventually, a case conference was called; Harm was quite surprised to see Terri in the room. With the debate rolling around the exhumation of Ellen Chaddock's body, Bud eventually asked Terri "Ma'am, if you won't allow an exhumation, why are you here?"

Mac explained Terri's presence: "Well, the commander is an expert witness and she can provide potentially exculpatory evidence".

The debate rumbled on for a while, until Bud suggested an exhumation to clear the anomalies between Ellen's head injury (which, it was now very clear, had occurred five days before her death) and the stated cause of death. It was blindingly obvious that the facts no longer fitted any of the theories of the original case, trial and conviction, thereby rendering the original conviction of Thomas Chaddock both unsafe and unsound.

"Teresa, think about this for a while; you are denying us something that you have requested in hundreds of other cases". As he spoke, Harm could see the Tennessee Tiger rising in Teresa's eyes. He had hoped to make his case logically and cleanly - and without risking further potential damage to his marriage or risking another night in the guest room bed!

Bud weighed in: "All we're looking for is the truth, Ma'am".

Terri wasn't there yet; in civvies, with her hair loose and framing her head, Harm realised that her eyes were blazing angry as she launched her counter-strike and tore into Bud. " _Here's the truth, Lieutenant. My mother lies in peace - something that she rarely experienced in her life. No-one can touch her now and I intend to keep it that_ way".

 **Eventually, after more revelations in the courtroom, even Terri would have to realise - and accept - that an exhumation and further, 2000-vintage autopsy was required. She had to concede that the flimsy autopsy file from 1989 was nowhere near good enough for a definitive cause of death, let alone a conviction in a capital case. However, on that Thursday morning, she wasn't there just yet.**

Terri also found herself heading back down memory lane, going back towards August 25th 1989. Eventually, she knew that she would have to seek out someone whom she had never wanted (nor expected) to see ever again. Mac volunteered to drive her to find the witness.

 **Thursday 18th May 2000 - 14:37hrs EST**

 **Shoreline Mobile Home Park;**

 **Virginia Beach, VA**

Neither Mac nor Teresa was able to shake Rory Coulter's desire to avoid any involvement in the re-trial.

Terri was perplexed. "When did you discover God?" Somehow, she had managed to keep a straight face when she asked the question.

Rory chuckled: "Right after I found out I might be a murder suspect!"

Terri smiled, realising that both she and Rory looked tired - a permanent state during their all-too-brief marriage. She realised that Rory could add nothing to the sum total of human knowledge in this old case.

As she walked back to Mac's car, Terri rejoiced in the nation's divorce laws and the existence of her wonderful second husband and their lovely daughter. She knew that she had outgrown Rory Coulter. Being brutally honest with herself, she realised that she had probably outgrown him before she said " _I do_ " on the day when she had first changed her name from Chaddock to Coulter. Oh, if only 20:20 hindsight was a part of growing up! She thanked her God for the original meeting with her Flyboy in the Navajo nation and she rejoiced in the motherhood that had resulted. It was time to give Harm a break.

Throughout the journey as she drove Terri back to DC, Mac wisely stayed quiet as Terri wrestled with her thoughts.

 **Friday 19th May 2000 - 10:35hrs EST**

 ** **Court Room number one, JAG HQ, Falls Church. VA**.**

The next day, Teresa was back in uniform for the pathology testimony associated with the re-trial of Captain Chaddock.

The trial continued, now focussing on the lead-up to Ellen's death; Captain Chaddock was testifying about his failures as a husband and the incident five days before Ellen's death - the day when she had thrown him out of the house for the first (and as it was to turn out, the last and only) time in her life.

 _"Ellen would never go out of the house alone - she was too dependent"._

 _"It was the first time that I had hurt her; it shook me up"._

 _"She called me at the motel every day"._

Listening to her father's testimony, regarding the impact of Ellen's head with the bedpost and the fact that it occurred a full five days before her mother's death, Terri suddenly realised that she could not, in all good conscience, support the original (and as she had previously described it, " _piss-poor, by-the-numbers and not up to scratch_ ") autopsy report. Taken together with the new revelation that Ellen had telephoned Thomas at the motel every day, facts were emerging which made the original finding untenable. Terri was reluctantly being forced to the conclusion that more than ten years of hatred may have been misdirected.

Sitting in the court, Terri slowly yielded to the inevitable. She knew what must, however distasteful, be allowed to happen.

As the courtroom cleared at the end of the hearing, Terri stood in front of Harm and Bud in the hallway.

"Commander, you can exhume the body".

Bud headed off to raise the necessary paperwork for the exhumation of Ellen Chaddock's body; he wanted to try to get the process underway before the weekend.

Harm looked closely at Terri as he squeezed her hand surreptitiously: "Do you believe him?"

Terri squeezed back, gently. "Harm, let's just take this one step at a time".

 **Friday 19th May 2000 - 18:50hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

That night, when they returned to their home, Terri hugged her husband close. It had been a long, harrowing, draining day at the end of a long, harrowing and draining week. Over matching cups of coffee, the Navy pathologist turned FBI Agent and the Navy pilot turned lawyer transformed back into loving wife and husband.

As it happened, the exhumation paperwork was swiftly approved and the exhumation undertaken. Terri, as a witness *and* being related to both the "victim" and the accused, was (quite properly) excluded from going within a country mile of any involvement with the second autopsy on Ellen Chaddock's body. Additionally, she didn't want her memories of her mother tainted by the realities of involvement in the fresh autopsy on an 11-year-old corpse. She knew that she had been the one who had discovered her mother's body that morning back in 1989 and that was enough, even for Terri's pathologist-experienced stomach to deal with.

By Sunday morning the autopsy results were in. Teresa was grateful to one of her colleagues, who had given up her Saturday to carry out the autopsy whilst her children spent the day with their father at the ice rink. She telephoned her results and conclusions through to Teresa at lunchtime on the Sunday.

"Thanks Caroline, I owe you."

" _De nada_ ; Terri, I am glad to have been able to help; we are pathologists - you and I bring closure to the dead, we speak for the dead when they cannot speak; and we deliver explanations to help the living. I am just glad to have been able to help out in this particular case and to give you some more answers".

Terri put the phone down and turned to Harm, tears shining in her eyes; she couldn't speak, but Harm guessed the result of Caroline's phone call. He hugged her and they stood there silently for quite a while, with Terri's head resting in the crook of Harm's neck. Eventually, a hungry gurgle from Little Ellie brought them back to reality - and the need to prepare the evening meal.

 **Monday 22nd May 2000 - 11:45hrs EST**

 ** **Court Room number one, JAG HQ, Falls Church. VA**.**

Armed with the autopsy results, Harm was building his case for an acquittal of Captain Thomas Chaddock. He laid out his evidence to the court, handing the exhibits to Judge Morris; " _Repair order to the propane heating unit, on Friday August 25th, the day before Ellen Chaddock's death. Seaman Ramon Arguente didn't have enough vent pipe, so he left the unit marked out of use_ ".

Harm turned to Terri, who was sitting in the witness stand to give evidence as an expert pathologist.

"Commander, how would we know if someone had succumbed to carbon monoxide poisoning?"

"Other than evidence at the scene, the best evidence is blood analysis". Suddenly, Terri could see where Harm's line of reasoning was going...

"And when would one test for this?"

"When indicated".

Harm's evidence from the goldfish and Ellen's stored blood sample was conclusive and overwhelming. Suddenly, Terri was very proud of her Tomcat and his obsessive, terrier-like pursuit of the truth! At least she now knew for certain that she could have done nothing for the goldfish in her mother's bedroom!

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 22nd May 2000 - 16:27hrs EST**

 ** **Court Room number one, JAG HQ, Falls Church. VA**.**

The panel returned, handing their written verdict to the presiding judge.

" _The accused and counsel will rise_ ".

Harm and Bud stood, flanking Chaddock as the verdict was read out.

 **Verdict: *NOT GUILTY***

" _Captain Thomas Chaddock, on the charge and specification of murder, this court finds you not guilty_ ". Judge Morris banged his gavel to close the proceedings.

As the court cleared, Terri was heading for the exit. Mac intercepted her and they got to talking about their fathers.

"The Navy sent me to medical school; I thought I was going to be a doctor, but I found myself attracted to crime scenes".

Mac disclosed that, by the time she had forgiven her father, it was too late for him to hear her. "He was in a coma". Terri nodded her understanding: "My whole life has been defined by what happened to my mother".

"Is that how you want it to remain?" asked Mac.

"I want to remember her as a person, not a victim".

Terri turned to Harm. "Harm, you knew he was innocent - that's why you wouldn't give him up".

"Well Teresa, it was more of an instinct". Harm smiled and touched her arm: "Come by my office when you're done here".

She gave him a determined look, with a gentle smile: "I am done here".

Raising a questioning eyebrow and looking deep into her eyes, Harm looked at her then looked back, over his shoulder, into the courtroom where Captain Chaddock was discussing something with Bud. Following his gaze, Terri nodded and then placed a hand briefly on Harm's forearm, nodded to Mac then walked slowly back into the courtroom, halting two paces inside the door of the courtroom.

As Terri walked slowly back into the courtroom, her father advanced slowly towards her, not wanting to break the moment - or worse, scare off his only daughter. As the shadow of the past 11 years was lifted from his shoulders, he had an important mission to discharge.

They came to a halt, about two paces apart.

"Hi".

"Hi".

Father and daughter began to smile, as they started their process of a ten-year reconciliation. Terri sighed; this would take time, but the journey had started.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 9 - Part 14- "A view to a killing".**

 **Monday 22nd May 2000 - 18:29hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Terri was very happy, on returning home that evening, to hug her baby and get out of her uniform. Harm arrived home later, having processed the newly-reinstated Captain Thomas Chaddock out of the custody suite and settled him into the VOQ.

It had been agreed, in Teresa's initial conversations with her father inside the courtroom following his acquittal, that they would " _take it slow_ " as father and daughter re-built their previously-shattered relationship, which now had the added dynamic of a husband and daughter (son-in-law and grand-daughter to Chaddock) to factor in. Harm's mom had flown in for a visit ahead of the Memorial Day weekend - she wanted to visit Harm Senior's panel on the Vietnam Memorial over the upcoming holiday weekend (this year, she had decided that it was important for her to fly across and visit the Memorial with her son, his new wife and their new daughter, cementing together the extension of the Harmon Rabb family). Frank Burnett had remained in La Jolla to keep an eye on their California businesses.

The former Chaddock home on the military base had long ago been returned to the base housing co-ordinators (for re-allocation to the next family) and the contents liquidated by Terri following her father's conviction. Terri had looked briefly at the logistics of providing a home for her father, so if she needed to provide him with a home, the Millington property would be disposed of, to provide Thomas Chaddock with a home. However, that lay some way down the line - in the immediate future, the US Navy needed to come to a settlement regarding Chaddock's re-instatement (difficult after an 11-year gap in knowledge and experience) or some form of compensation and enhanced retirement package - a course of action which seemed to be a more-likely and infinitely more pragmatic resolution of the embarrassing situation resulting from the rush-to-judgement (based upon incorrect evidence) way back in 1989-90.

Harm had no issue with Terri selling off Millington; the original idea of using it as a down-payment for little Ellen's college fund was a long-term plan, which would not kick in for a further 16-17 years (by which time, Thomas Chaddock was hardly likely to need his own home). Nevertheless, Harm was determined to let (aka "force") the US Navy come to a settlement with his father-in-law for the ten-plus years of pre-trial confinement and wrongful post-conviction imprisonment. They would let "the System" sort out the initial offer of compensation under Bud's careful eye. Bud was already eagerly drafting the initial motions.

Terri took the precaution of lining up a session (" _a joint session"_ , for both her and her husband as she explained to Jordi) with Jordi Parker for professional, dispassionate advice and guidance; when Harm heard about this idea, he hugged Terri and complimented her on her foresight. Bearing in mind her outburst the previous week after he had originally visited Chaddock in jail without telling Terri first, Harm was gratefully for his wife's calm, sober and considered actions - he guessed that, had Mac been his wife, she would have torn his head off for such a misjudgement!

"You know Terri, I reckon that involving Jordi in this case was a very wise move". He kissed her forehead: "Bravo Zulu, Doctor Coulter-Rabb".

"Yeah, but you ain't out of the woods yet, Tomcat; significant grovelling will be required before you are fully forgiven". She smiled, cuddling him close. Ellie watched from her crib, gurgling and smiling happily.

Harm bowed deeply; "Certain milady, just tell me what and when and how deeply you require me to grovel".

"Well, it will involve shoes, clothes and probably a vacation".

"Deal!" Harm was relieved to have escaped so lightly - and without him being exiled again from the marital bed.

He nudged Terri from her doze and asked the question which he still had outstanding.

"So Terri, when do you want to start rebuilding relationships with your father?"

Terri hugged him, nestling her head under his chin. "Not tonight, Tomcat" she muttered. "Tonight I just want my husband all to myself, because I'll share my family with my father sometime after tonight".

Harm shrugged, kissing the top of her head. "That works for me!" Terri's hand explored Harm's body and he returned the compliment, focussing on Terri's favourite sensitive spots. It was a while before they fell asleep.

 **Tuesday 23rd May 2000 - 07:59hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Terri was awake early to get Ellie ready for the day-care at FBI headquarters. Having hung up her USNR uniform the night before at the conclusion of her father's re-trial, she was back in her civilian attire as she prepared to head back to crime-fighting on the mean streets of Washington DC and across the country - she could never be certain what cases and evidence would arrive for her team in any given day (excluding sudden requests from her annoying Tomcat when he had annoyed NCIS, she mused). They kissed in the hall-way as she grabbed her car-keys, slinging a briefcase and handbag over one shoulder and picking up Ellie's porta-crib in the other hand. Her Saab left the garage en-route to the city, leaving Harm to finish his toast and stack the dishwasher.

As Harm was about to leave the house, his cell-phone rang.

"Rabb".

The voice on the other end spoke for a while; Harm's response was simple.

"Yes Admiral; about a half-hour".

Harm and (eventually) most of the JAG team were to be dragged into a morass of an investigation which started with Mikey Roberts being blamed for the near-strafing of a Marine landing craft by the CIWS which he was in charge of.

 **Wednesday 24th May 2000 - 08:27hrs EST**

 **The J Edgar Hoover building: 935 Pennsylvania Ave NW,**

 **Washington, DC 20535, USA**

Terri signed in at the day-care centre as she dropped off Ellen with the day-care specialists and headed down into her laboratory to start on the case which had arrived overnight. An emerging serial-killer case from Nevada had been lined up for her next major case. As she was about to pick up her cell-phone to call Harm, her phone buzzed; this time her husband was calling her, because the Mikey Roberts CIWS case was getting complex!

Fortunately, Harm's mom was able to delay her departure to California, providing grand-motherly oversight for little Ellen. Frank promised not to spend too much money on take-away meals as he awaited the delayed return of his wife to California - leaving aside the fact that Tricia worried constantly about Frank's heart! Terri offered up a quick, prayer of thanks - thanking the good Lord for willing grandparents who just happened to be visiting on the correct side of the Continental USA just as she needed them! Sometime her Tennessee Baptist upbringing helped to frame the perfect prayer!

By the time Harm (and the Admiral) had resolved matters on the ocean - and stayed onboard to watch the joint Navy/Marines exercises - Terri was in Nevada, where she was to remain for a week as the remote canyonland body farm continued to give up its secrets during the FBI investigation of the 20-plus-year campaign of secret killings which the serial UNSUB had undertaken across Nevada.

Correction: that was, 20 years that the FBI knew about so far... Terri sighed and opened the next file.

 **Wednesday 31st May 2000 - 17:47hrs EST**

 **FBI Field office, 980 Sandhill Rd, Reno, NV** **89521, USA**

Terri finally stood up straight. It was on the sixth day, as Terri's lower back and neck muscles were screaming for mercy after bending over autopsy tables for almost a week, that she spotted the tiny piece of metal which would eventually break the case and enable her armed FBI and LEO colleagues to bring down the Nevada Slicer. As she finished her write-ups of the final two autopsy cases, she felt sorry for the women who had been the random victims of the killer. Every woman had been over 20, married, with long blonde hair - Terri shuddered as she realised that the victims bore more than a passing resemblance to her.

Every body had been stripped of jewellery, but she became adept at noticing the indentation on the ring finger of the recent bodies, where the surviving flesh bore witness to the previous presence of a wedding band on the victim. This UNSUB had a predilection for married, blonde women.

Her profile of the killer, together with the forensic evidence, led the FBI to a mild-mannered store owner in a town which the FBI bureau chief had jokingly described as " _Butthole, Nevada_ " (to which the Nevada FBI colleagues had - perhaps somewhat surprisingly - readily agreed). A sickening set of video tapes recovered from the serial killer's "stash" showed how he had perfected his technique over the years, subduing each woman in the aisle of his store, sedating her and then killing her 48 hours later up in the old abandoned mine of his remote property outside Carson City after restraining her with no prospect of release or freedom; once she had entered the store, each woman's fate was sealed. A secluded barn gave up its collection of their long-hidden motor-cars; in all, 17 cases of missing women were solved that week by Terri's endeavours, enabling 17 husbands and 17 sets of children to finally know what had happened to their wives and mothers.

For Terri, a box containing 18 wedding rings was the worst trophy to be discovered (validating her conclusion and finding that every woman's body had been stripped of all jewellery as part of the killer's twisted process to de-humanise his victims). But the killer had reckoned without the determination of one of the FBI's finest pathologists and Terri was very pleased to give the SAC all the necessary evidence to be certain that, when the FBI kicked in the door, the killer would be going straight to jail.

She looked down at her wedding ring (a constant presence on her hand) and the engagement ring as she put it back on once more after cleaning up in the shower attached to the doctors' lounge in the FBI mortuary. She was a lucky woman, with a husband, daughter, mother-in-law and, now, the return of her father - innocent, reformed, stone-cold sober and desperately keen to rebuild his relationship with his only child.

Terri knew that she would be supporting and encouraging Thomas Chaddock at every stage of his journey - she had lost more than ten years of her father (first to the bottle, then to "the System" in Leavenworth), as well as losing her mother and subsequently (for whatever reason) her first marriage, following the events of that April morning back in 1989.

Teresa Coulter-Rabb resolved that 2000 was going to be her "Year of the Family" in every sense of the word.

The mystery of the 18th ring was eventually solved - the store owner's pregnant (blonde-haired) wife had been killed in an abortive store robbery six months before his killing spree began. Although the robber had been caught and punished, this murder of his pregnant wife was almost certainly the event which had tipped the store-keeper over the edge, starting him on his murderous rampage through the married blonde women of the southwestern USA. Fortunately, his wife had recorded her marriage date by engraving the marriage date (and their names) on the inside of her wedding band, which the store-keeper had kept back before her funeral. Then he had started killing married blondes.

It was just a terrible waste of life, but Terri was proud to have been part of the FBI team which had brought closure. Depressingly, the Nevada Slicer wouldn't even make the "Top Five" of serial killers in the FBI database, but she was happy to leave him to the FBI psychologists, who would be studying him for the next 20-30 years until Death Row eventually caught up with him or he broke his neck by tripping over his beard.

Frankly, the Tennessee Tiger had spent enough time on this pathetic man's case and she didn't give a flyin' crap about where he ended up. She was missing her husband and daughter; the case had reminded Terri of just how complete her life in DC was, now that she was a married mother.

Case closed; mother and wife duties beckon, as does the Coulter-Rabb home in DC at the end of every journey away from the family. The late finish in the mortuary meant that Terri would be spending another night in FBI-provided accommodation in Nevada before her flight home. That evening, she spent a long time on the phone to Harm.

Terri flew home the next day with a profound sense of accomplishment, tinged with gratitude that she had never gone shopping in a small, out-of-the-way Nevada convenience store. She hugged Harm and an almost-17-months-old Ellen tightly on her return home on the Thursday evening. She had taken the Friday and Monday off as time to "de-compress" from the horrors of the preceding eight days, so that a quiet (and long) weekend of close family bonding ensued. Harm, who had benefitted from Terri's insistence on taking a vacation after his various Russian escapades, fully appreciated the value of taking a break.

 **Friday 2nd June May 2000 - 10:59hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Terri knew that she had to get busy re-building her relationship with her father; Harm, Terri and Ellen (and Thomas Chaddock as well) deserved nothing less than the establishment of a fully-integrated grandfather in the Coulter-Rabb family.

 **As she settled down to get to know her father, she and Harm had little idea that events were about to conspire to drag him across to the depths of Russia and out into the wild expanses of Chechnya. This year of 2000 was about to take a turn for the bizarre as old secrets, long-buried (literally in some cases!) would begin to surface. Terri and Harm would be very glad to reach the first Christmas of the new millennium.**

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase Nine - "View to a killing"**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**


	10. Legacy: Past Tense: 11SEP2001

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 10 - parts 15 and 16 and 17)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N.

 **A/N:** Allusion to canon: "Legacy: Part 1 (S06Ep01), first broadcast on 03-Oct-2000; "Legacy: part 2 (S06Ep02), first broadcast on 10-Oct-2000; "Past Tense" (S06Ep21), first broadcast on 01-May-2001.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Phase Ten of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Legacy; Past Tense; a September morning"**

A/N 08-07-2018: ...and now, on with Chapter Ten.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 10 - Part 15 - "Legacy".**

 **Tuesday 3rd October 2000 - 19:10hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC:**

"I'll be away for about a fortnight: the Russian military need our help in applying their laws in military tribunals."

Harm was packing his bags ahead of his departure for Russia. The countries within the Commonwealth of Independent States (established after the implosion of the former Soviet Union in 1991) had remained loosely connected, but the war of secession in Chechnya was still consuming lives at an alarming rate in 2000.

Terri hugged him, taking care not to crease either of their uniforms (she was running a USN Reserves course at the FBI that day): "Safely home, Tomcat".

"Always, Tornado".

He bent down and kissed 21-month-old Ellie on the head; she smiled up at him and reached up for a hug, which Harm duly obliged.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

As it turned out this trip to Russia would, once more, deliver adventures and unexpected danger - along with a family surprise. When Harm was sent to Russia to assist with rebuilding the Russian military courts service and their application of Russian military law, he was not surprised that, once more, trouble found him. What completely floored him was his eventual meeting with his half-brother, Sergei Zhukov, in the badlands of the Chechen border area.

In parallel, further complications relating to the blowing up of a US Naval officer (who was on trial for espionage) inside the JAG car park in Falls Church brought Mac into contact with Clayton Webb and Marc Sokol (aka agent "Falcon") once more. Mac subsequently found herself in Russia and working in partnership with Harm, where the JAG Dynamic Duo managed to thwart a plot to blow up Russian President Vladimir Putin. Their two-week trip into Russia had proved quite eventful by the time they returned to Dulles in mid-October 2000.

Throughout Harm's adventure with Mac in Russia, Terri continued her role in FBI HQ, running autopsies and advising the Bureau on the results, bringing justice to the murdered and speaking eloquently for the dead. The tableau of her work had expanded from the previous years in Memphis and her profile was raised by an article in the Washington Post in the series "Women of the Millennium". The fascinating combination of FBI ME, Naval Officer, Naval Pathologist, working mother and "Naval wife" proved irresistible to the press, resulting in a very favourable article which was appreciated by all the chains of command into which Terri reported. The Coulter-Rabb home also featured subsequently in a "Martha Stewart" style home magazine supplement in the Washington Post weekend edition.

 **Unfortunately, this article would attract the attention of a deranged individual who developed a obsession about our favourite pathologist over an historic case - an obsession which would ultimately place Terri and Ellen in harm's way.**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Wednesday 18th October 2000**

 **Arrivals hall, Washington Dulles Airport:**

Harm and Terri hugged as Mac and Webb faded away in the arrivals hall. After several weeks away in Russia, Terri was glad to have Harm home. It was clear, from the expression on his face, that he had experienced an unsettling series of events whilst in Russia.

After he had hugged Ellie on his return to the house, he had showered and then sat down with Terri. He took her hand and gazed deep into her eyes.

"Terri, my search for my father is now at an end. I now know more about what happened to my father before he died in Russia. The evidence is walking around".

Terri raised an eyebrow: "What do you mean, ' _the evidence is walking around'_ , Harm?"

"Teresa, I have a younger half-brother, who was conceived whilst my father was on the run after he escaped from the prison camp in Russia. Sergei Zhukov is a helicopter pilot in the Russian Air Force and as Mac commented when she saw us, we argue like brothers!"

She hugged him, happy that he had finally pursued his quest to its logical conclusion. "Oh thank god. Now, Tomcat, would you please focus on your wife, daughter and family here in the USA, ***please***?"

"Yes of course and with pleasure, darling Tennessee Bombshell - as I said before, the quest for Harmon Rabb senior is at an end. I know I'll never find his body where the farmer buried him - there is a Russian saying that ' _the taiga has no end_ ', so he's at peace finally and so am I".

As they hugged, Terri felt her body responding after the long separation during her husband's voyage to Russia.

She was glad that her Tomcat had landed home safely.

Harm paused from nuzzling her neck, to whisper in her ear. "Darling?"

"Hmmmmm?"

"How about an early night?"

"Oh yeah honey, now you're a-talkin' mah language!"

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Thursday 26th October 2000 - 19:10hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC:**

"I'll be back tomorrow night, subject to flights from the West Coast"; Harm was updating Terri on his schedule as he wrapped up the investigation in San Diego and prepared to head for his mom's house at the end of that day.

"OK, I've got a reporter coming round later, following up on that profile article in the Post earlier this month". Terri was unpacking a new pair of shoes from the British company Bally, which she was planning to wear with her black silk pant-suit to the Hallowe'en charity ball. First however, she had to break them in - a task which was more-conveniently achieved around the house than in the office, where the heel height didn't exactly match the uniform standards for an officer in the US Navy Reserves. Harm had always liked her in high heels - no doubt remembering the first night that they had met, that April night a quarter of a decade ago. She had decided to leave the polishing to Harm; Bally used high-quality leather in their shoes, so getting a shine would be no problem; Harm had regularly polished her winter boots up to a gleaming shine once they had moved in together - he described it as part of his contribution to the household. he had also learned that, by prolonging the life of his wife's footwear, the overall cost of married life was reduced.

The arrival of the reporter coincided with Terri putting Ellie down, so that she was alone in the kitchen when the "reporter" turned on his tape recorder and began a set of fairly standard questions. About twenty minutes in the interview, Terri stepped away from the breakfast bar to switch on the kettle. She noted that it was still warm from making the coffee with which she had greeted her visitor.

Suddenly, she felt a knife tip at her throat.

"Dr Coulter, I have always admired your work; but you really shouldn't have condemned my brother for killing his wife".

"Huh?" - Terri had turned slightly monosyllabic, trying to discern the identity of this allegedly-aggrieved "brother" - "What the hell are you on about?"

The knife probed her neck again; "You DON'T question me, bitch!"

"Son, that's no way to address a Southern Lady". It was the sheer rudeness of the man that got Terri's blood boiling - just as the kettle reached its own boiling point. Confident that Ellie was safely in her bed in the other room, Terri was ready to fight her corner as Momma Teresa.

Without further ado, she stamped down on his foot (she was still wearing the brand-new Bally stilettos, so the aggressor's foot received the full point impact of Terri's weight); he screamed, dropping his arm (still holding the knife) away from Terri's throat, as the heel broke off her shoe. Terri lurched away from the knife, swung around and dumped the contents of the kettle into his face.

He dropped the knife, stepping back to grasp his face. Putting all her weight behind her arm, Terri swung the now-empty kettle at the side of his head. Once more she didn't miss - her aim was deadly accurate and she was in full-on protective Momma Bear mode, to ensure that this arsehole was getting nowhere near her bear cub - aka little Ellen Patricia Coulter-Rabb.

As the man collapsed, stunned and semi-comatose, to the floor, Terri picked up the phone, firstly to dial 911 (requesting Police backup and an ambulance for the intruder) and then to contact the NCIS duty help line (to report the assault on the home of a USN officer and a JAG lawyer) to request NCIS backup. She kicked off the broken remains of her shoe and then ran to Harm's study, unlocked his gun safe and loaded the clip into the handgun, chambering a round. Buckling the webbing belt around her waist, she unlocked the front door and wedged it open to allow the arriving police officers to enter her home unhindered. She then sat, across the room from where the assailant lay groaning, her loaded weapon aimed resolutely at his head.

The distant ululating sound of sirens drew closer, followed by slamming doors, running footsteps and a distinctive, insistent pounding on the door frame.

A strident female voice announced the arrivals.

" _Metro Police officers entering_ ".

"US _Navy officer, armed and in control of the situation - walk straight forward towards the sound of my voice and keep on coming until we make eye contact to your right as you walk through the door; I am armed with my Service side-arm_ ". Because she was still in uniform, Terri was easily identified by the incoming police officers. They rapidly ascertained that her weapon was pointed at the wounded man - who continued to lie groaning on the floor - and that Terri presented no threat to them. The presence of the knife on the floor was also noted.

Terri made her statement, clearly and calmly, flipping on the safety catch and holstering the side-arm.

" _This nutter was here, in my personal home, under the pretext of a magazine interview. He then held me at knife-point - the knife is on the floor and he'll need a medic because I had to retaliate in order to defend myself and to protect my child who is also in the house. However, be clear that I want this piece of human excrement out of my home and away from my child before anyone renders him medical assistance_ ".

A further squeal of tyres announced the arrival of further personnel.

" _NCIS agents entering_ ". The tall figure of Leroy Jethro Gibbs strode down the hallway, credentials and handgun raised. "Hello Dr Coulter-Rabb: our Response team called me because I was close by. How can I help?" Tony DiNozzo was a half-pace behind Gibbs, credentials also raised and his hand on the sidearm at his hip.

Terri relaxed and holstered her sidearm. "Hey Gibbs; we already have Metro Police officers here - you'll need to review the surveillance system which covers the ground floor - and I need the evidence preserved for the inevitable court case".

"My pleasure - DiNozzo, let the Doc show you where the control cabinet is, whilst I look after the attacker until the ambulance turns up".

"On it. Boss". Terri led DiNozzo away to the study.

At this point, the wounded "journalist" finally started to move. " _That bitch - she broke bah dose_ ", the man moaned. A significant amount of blood had mingled with the remaining water which was still dripping from his head.

Gibbs leaned in, finger extended. " _Actually, that's Lieutenant Commander Bitch, United States Naval Reserves and FBI to you, scumbag. Now, what were you saying about an alleged assault; what, this nose?"_ Gibbs' extended finger made contact.

"*OW*" - the man clasped his nose with both hands - at which point Gibbs deftly handcuffed the assailant, to the considerable amusement of the two DC police officers who had bracketed the man as he sat, wounded, in the floor of Terri's kitchen. The female police officer removed her foot, which had been planted on the knife to keep it out of useable range of the assailant, and reached for another evidence bag.

Gibbs looked at the DC officers: "OK officers; assault by a civilian on a serving Naval officer, wearing her Naval uniform and in her home; who wants to prosecute this poor excuse for a human being?"

The senior policeman, a long-serving veteran of DC Metropolitan Police, produced a quarter and looked at Gibbs: "Toss you for it?"

His younger female colleague chuckled; "Hey Sarge, surely you should be more serious".

The sergeant winked at Gibbs as he replied to her: "Oh but I am, Lewis, I am. You know that NCIS defends Naval Officers and their families; the Commander's child is in the other room and the Commander also has a nick in her throat from a knife, so NCIS can have a crack at him or we book him into the padded cell in the holding suite. So Agent Gibbs: do you want him, because I can see home invasion, assault with a deadly weapon, assaulting a Naval Officer and -" he paused as he noticed Terri's FBI credentials on the breakfast bar, then smiled " -assaulting an FBI agent. I think he's screwed every way up, don't you?"

Gibbs, smiling, entered into the spirit of the debate. "Well Sergeant; why don't we all look at the CCTV to be absolutely sure?" By this time, all the law enforcement people in the room were laughing.

Five minutes later, the assailant's fate was decided; everyone had a copy of the DVD showing the surveillance pictures from Terri's kitchen. The evidence was clear, damning and indisputable. "Hey doc, nice stomp" observed Lewis as she slowed down to view the critical moment on a frame-by-frame basis: "Shame about the heels, though".

Terri smiled as she handed the remains of her brand-new shoes, along with the broken heel, to Lewis for placement into an evidence bag. "Hey, it saves my Tomcat from polishing them" Lewis sealed the evidence bag and got her pen out to establish the chain of evidence.

Lewis looked up at Terri, trying to decipher her last statement; "Tomcat?"

"Sorry, Officer Lewis, that's my personal nickname for my husband; although he is now a Naval JAG, he is a former F-14 Tomcat driver".

"OK, doc, understood. Hey Gibbs, where do we mail the cuffs once we get the prisoner to our holding cells?"

Here's my card - send them to the Navy yard when time permits. DiNozzo, break out another set of cuffs from the trunk".

"On it, boss".

As the police officers were helping the attacker to an upright position, the ambulance crew arrived. After verifying that the crime scene was safe and under police control, they moved to the man.

Terri interrupted them before they could commence treatment: "No, I want this heap of human crap outside my front door before you commence treatment - he's already leaked enough blood on my kitchen floor in the time that he's been down there".

The DC police officers agreed and offered to assist the EMTs by arranging to cart the assailant out into the fresh air where an ambulance awaited, lights still flashing. The NCIS agents joined in: everyone took an arm or a leg and the attacker was unceremoniously carted out of Terri's home.

"Wow, who hit him and with what?" asked the bemused EMT as she began examining the man's bleeding foot.

"Kettle up top to the head, then my shoe down below after he stuck a knife in my throat" replied Terri as Officer Lewis held up the bagged and bloody shoes and knife, before she continued: "Brand new shoes unfortunately - but at least you don't have to check for dog-crap in the wound!"

"Nice shot, Commander" commented the female EMT as she began tending to the man's injuries. At the insistence of the police officers, the NCIS handcuffs remained on during his treatment. The male EMT started work on Terri's nicked throat; given Terri's stature, the shorter EMT asked her to remain sitting. Terri was pleased to comply, looking up at her ceiling as the EMT applied antiseptic just in case of a wound infection. When he had finished, she looked at her reflection in the mirror in the hallway; with his pilot's eyesight, her husband couldn't miss the dressing if it was still in place when he returned home, as scheduled, the next evening.

Terri was relieved to see that little Ellie had slept through the excitement; she decided not to phone Harm and disturb him as he caught up with his Mom and Frank in La Jolla. Despite Terri's encouragement, Harm's amount of time spent with his Mom and step-dad were not as much as Terri would like (and she acknowledged to herself that she was probably over-compensating for the lack of brothers and sisters, the absence of her mom and the absence of her father for more than a decade).

Terri smiled - she had the upcoming weekend to accomplish that update and she reckoned that, after a good night's sleep, she could deliver an objective assessment to her husband on his return. She still got a very pleasurable shiver, down into her toes, every time she thought of that little word - "husband".

That night, Terri slept soundly, with little Ellie alongside their bed in her crib. By dawn on the Friday morning, she was ready to face the new day.

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 **Friday 27th October 2000 - 06:23hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC **:****

Terri had decided overnight that she would welcome her husband home by treating Harm to a welcome from her, wearing a special set of underwear, which she knew would be invisible beneath her Navy uniform as she delivered the last day of the course during the Friday.

For once, she lamented the strictures of the rules governing USN uniforms; but she only had to keep the uniform buttoned up until she was back home indoors with Harm at Nebraska Avenue!

The memory of the knife-wielding nutter was already fading. At coffee-time, she checked in with the DC Metro Police and with Gibbs at NCIS; the case against her assailant was iron-clad and would work its way through the justice system: the serious nature of the charges against him (actually it was the " _assaulting a Federal Agent_ " charge which had been the icing on the cake) meant that bail was denied automatically. Her assailant would be dining at state expense until the conclusion of his trial - at least.

It was clear that she was only likely to be called into court, as a "witness for the persecution", in the event that the defendant disputed the iron-clad video evidence in the case files against him: " _And you know how some defendants just don't realise that they are beaten_ " commented Officer Lewis as she ran Terri through the case logs over the phone.

To satisfy her own curiosity, Terri pulled the historical case files for the case involving the knifeman's brother. She went over the evidence once more in the case which had brought the lunatic "reporter" into her home. She was satisfied, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that everything was in order - the nutter's brother had definitely killed his wife. Satisfied, she closed the files and began the paperwork to return them to the archives.

Dismissing the incident, she started to track down a replacement pair of those lovely Bally stilettoes; Harm hadn't even seen the original pair, so Terri resorted to a spot of retail therapy over her lunch break.

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 **Friday 27th October 2000 - 18:40hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC **:****

Harm arrived home wearied after a succession of flights which had brought him eastwards from California. He was immediately on alert as he saw the dressing on her neck, then was horrified to hear Terri's story and was stunned, on seeing the video recording, to see Terri defending herself and her home. He hugged her tightly, kissing her robustly after she had put Ellie to bed in the toddler's bedroom and pulled the door closed.

"I love you and I am *so* proud of you defending our home, my lovely Tennessee Tiger Terri".

"I love you, Tomcat".

At that point, Terri began removing all the elements of her USN uniform, having quietly stepped up into a pair of blood-red stilettos as their family unit had arrived home. She could see (from the little tell-tale vein pulsing in Harm's neck, which she had spotted early on during their relationship) that his BP was spiking pleasurably; when he saw the full extent of the outfit which Terri had worn beneath her USN uniform, Harm gave an impression of a cartoon character blowing steam.

Some considerable time later, a quiet meal at home was followed by an early night.

 **The Coulter-Rabb family unit was back home, unbroken, tested and found to be victorious. The Coulter-Rabb family unit would prevail against all enemies, domestic and foreign, wheresoever they might come from.**

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The next six months of case brought a range of subjects into the courtroom of JAG, exercising Harm's skills on both prosecution and defence as the cases were allocated by Admiral Chegwidden.

These cases included defending RAdm Tom Boone from charges relating to a CIA-inspired massacre of a village in Vietnam (after which Tom decided to retire, despite clear and unequivocal evidence from the CIA agent exonerating him) along with an investigation into sexual harassment which snared Harm's earlier partner Kate Pike in its net, relating to the USS Bladensburg in 1996.

Looking at the dark-haired, slim officer, it seemed to Terri that Kate's fondly-remembered fun-loving spirit seemed broken as she finally took her leave of Harm. She looked drawn, pale, nervous and evidently under-weight (Terri even considered using the word "haunted" to describe Kate on their first face-to-face meeting). Harm hoped that she would regain her spark and relight her mojo - she deserved a happy life. Kate was very clear in her endorsement of Terri as Harm's life-long partner and all three of them exchanged a hug at the end. Terri realised that she could feel Kate's ribs through the woman's uniform; she elected not to say anything. Kate smiled wistfully as she stepped away to resume her career.

By the spring of 2001, Harm was ready for a break after the unexpected cruise on the "Minsk" to rebuilt trust with Alex Volkonov, his opposite number in the Russian military judiciary. The February 2001 trip aboard a Russian Oscar-II submarine (following the "Watertown torpedo" incident) brought Harm close to breaking point (nearly being destroyed by a malfunctioning Russian "Shkval" torpedo shook him up), so Terri scheduled a vacation in March and told Harm to book his vacation. This resulted in Terri, Harm and Ellie enjoying a fortnight-long vacation out in Aruba.

Terri, after surviving a similar heavy and harrowing workload throughout the autumn and winter and after looking at the accrued vacation time which she and Harm both had on their personnel jackets, arranged a further dedicated " _phones off_ " one-week vacation out in California for the end of April 2001. She was determined that her husband would be able to relax after the stressful events which appeared to regularly dog his JAG career.

Terri also wanted time with her husband following her experience of the obsessed stalker (whose trial had ended with a prison sentence and transfer to the "funny farm" for the treatment which he clearly needed and deserved).

 **Teresa's timing in arranging the Rabb family vacations was fortuitous. She was not to know - she could not know - that they would land straight back into another of Harm's "death of close friend" situations.**

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 **Chapter 10 - Part 16 - "Past Tense".**

 **Tuesday 1st May 2001 - 19:10hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC:**

Harm and Terri, along with a 28-month-old Ellen, returned to their DC home after a weekend in La Jolla, where Granny Trisha and Grampy Frank had spoiled Ellie something rotten, whilst Harm and Terri had relaxed on the seafront and blown away the remaining post-winter cobwebs in the clear air of the Pacific beachfront. It had helped to assuage the disappointment that there had not been enough evidence to support Sergei's application to immigrate into the USA.

Harm played the messages on the answerphone on their home number, then went to the study to play any messages which might have trickled in on the old number for his apartment - which he had arranged to be diverted to Nebraska Avenue as part of their house move. Terri brought his coffee to his desk as he jotted down the details of the messages.

He was surprised to play a message from Jordan Parker, giving her phone number and inviting him to call her.

Looking at Terri, he sought her permission to make contact with his former girlfriend. Terri nodded of course - Jordi had developed from one of Harm's exes into a trusted and valued friend in the world of psychiatry and the case of Dar-Lin Mattoni; indeed, her assistance had been instrumental in the success of the Thomas/Ellen Chaddock case the previous year.

Harm was surprised - and then upset - to hear the news from the NCIS agent who answered the phone. What did not help was the suspicious manner in which the NCIS agents treated Harm as a former love-interest of Jordi.

Fortunately, Harm and Terri were able to swiftly close his line of enquiry, as they still had their boarding passes (outbound and inbound) in their possession. This helped with the " _where were you when Commander Parker was murdered?_ " interrogations when the investigators (first Inspector Kenworthy and then the NCIS agents) wanted to investigate/eliminate them as possible persons of interest.

Eventually Terri headed off, flashing her FBI credentials and accompanying Jordi's body on its final journey to the mortuary. Harm stayed on site to render any assistance, filling in gaps in Jordi's background for NCIS and the local LEOs. Harm eventually drove home some hours later. Terri returned home from the mortuary by taxi.

The NCIS agent was grateful for the intel; it was becoming clear that the investigations into Jordi's life would be complex, given the number of interactions she had undertaken with a succession of disturbed and obsessive patients whose grasp on reality might politely be described as "tenuous".

The investigation of Jordi's death was to run on through the summer of 2001 and would eventually throw up an unexpected guilty party; but the case emphasised the innate goodness that had existed within Jordan Parker; the world had lost a good, caring and compassionate woman in the tragic event of her murder. Harm lamented the loss of another one of his friends to a stupid, pointless, distressing chance of fate. He added her name to an ever-lengthening list - Diane Schonke, Luke Pendry, Tess McGee - of friends whom he had lost.

Likewise, Jordan's loss hit Terri hard. She had valued - highly - the excellent work which Jordi had delivered to help Dar-Lin re-adjust to family life after the senseless slaughter and the hostage situation with Charlie Lynch on the USS Seabridge. Terri knew that Jordan's work was acknowledged as a large part of the successful integration of Dar-Lin with the Mattoni family and she cried for Jordan's loss. Both she and Harm made a point of attending Jordi's funeral.

Although Harm had felt guilty about having pressed Jordi to keep a weapon (the weapon which ultimately was to be the instrument of her demise), Terri was able to persuade him that his intentions had been good and he should not blame himself. To emphasise the point, she took him to bed and, within half an hour, had thoroughly convinced him that there were far better things in life to enjoy!

 **But then, out of a clear sky on a bright Tuesday morning in early September 2001, the world changed as the USA was forced - very publicly, very visibly and very violently - to realise that terrorism comes in all shapes and sizes and is not limited to far-flung places on "the other side of the world".**

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 **Chapter 10 - Part 17 - "A September morning".**

 **Monday 17th September 2001 - 06:59hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC:**

Terri groaned at the ringing of her cell phone.

" _Dear God, what asshole phones before seven on a ….Good morning, this is Dr Coulter-Rabb_ ".

Even though she had just been awoken by the ringing of her cell-phone, Terri was professionalism personified as she opened the call; she had recognised the number which was calling her as that of FBI HQ in the J Edgar Hoover Building. She and Harm had been isolated from the events of Tuesday 11th September, being sent in after the event to assist later on the Tuesday. Now, real life was about to intrude into her family life; however, she was glad that she and Harm had found time, over the weekend, to make love several times, re-affirming normal life after the catastrophic events of the Tuesday before.

Harm lay quietly alongside her for a few minutes, listening in on her side of the conversation, but when she dived down into discussions of mortuary facilities, refrigerated trucks, body bags, DNA databases, Interpol access, tables and lighting, he knew that his wife was about to be dragged into one of the disaster zones, either in lower Manhattan, or out in the wilds of Pennsylvania. She had already mentioned, over the weekend, that NCIS (and Ducky Mallard with his team) and other military-linked agencies would be handling the dead of the Pentagon.

He slid out of the bed and headed to the bathroom, checking in on their 32-month-old Ellen in her nursery as he passed. She had been awoken by the ring-tone of her mommy's cell-phone, and was sitting up in her bed demanding attention. Harm quickly delivered Ellie some juice before heading for the bathroom.

He had shaved, showered and dried by the time that Terri's face appeared in the bathroom door. She didn't look happy.

"Let me guess, darling - duty calls and you're off to NYC, or Shanksville, or the Pentagon?"

His enquiry was spot on - Terri raised a thumb, yawned, dropped her negligée outside the bathroom door and headed for the shower. Within five minutes, Harm's nostrils rejoiced to the aroma of her familiar shampoo and body wash - an aroma which, he knew, would be absent from the house in the coming days and weeks - duty had called.

After making a large pot of coffee which he left on the warmer in the kitchen, he returned to the bathroom in time to hand her a towel: "I'll phone Mom in La Jolla after lunchtime today, to sound her out regarding baby-sitting for Ellen Patricia once the airlines get back to normal after the SCATANA order is lifted" he offered.

"No need, Tomcat - I already discussed that with my Head of Section and she's arranging transportation for Ellie to the creche every day whilst I'm away on this exceptional TAD; I reminded her that both halves of team Coulter-Rabb have high-powered, responsible Government jobs in DC and she has allocated an intern and a fully-vetted nursery nurse".

She took Harm's hand. "Let's hold your Mom in reserve for another day - although" she smiled "she is of course welcome to come visit us at any time"; she smiled to reinforce the warmth of her opinion of Trish and Frank. Terri had adopted Frank and Trish Burnett as surrogate parents as she grew into married life as Harm's wife.

"I guess that there is no point in asking how long you'll be away?"

"Sorry Tomcat, no idea; the capacity of those buildings were over 50,000 people on average days, with up to 200,000 passing through as visitors, although the tally-sheets are starting to indicate a much lower death toll in the thousands. So, it looks like thousands not tens of thousands but... Once the operation moved from rescue to recovery, it's pretty clear that we'll be in this for the long haul. The bucket brigades are assembling, so evidence will come through in handfuls. Just keep Ellen safe and, if at all possible, avoid any TAD postings which involve aircraft - you are in prime position as chief parent-on-duty and father whilst Momma Teresa is away".

She had a sudden thought. "Oh, remember that trick-or-treat is due in around six weeks, so you will need to get some supplies and also talk to the local parents about going out as a group. I reckon that this country is going to be engaging in *all* our usual down-home domestic traditions as we recover from this terrorist hit".

She smiled to lighten the heavy importance of her words, then kissed him once more. "Oh, be sure to tell your Admiral that I am away - he may need the hint to keep you close by".

"Yeah, will do; Teresa Ellen, I love you".

 **Terri smiled - she had learned that her Tomcat only used her full name when he was trying to say something of great importance. She was so pleased that he had finally opened up, after his lifetime spent hiding his emotions.**

 **Harmon Rabb was blossoming into a faithful husband and, and a very special loving dutiful father to their daughter. She smiled to herself as she realised that, under her special tutelage, his bedroom skills were steadily expanding and improving as well - to their mutual benefit!**

She leaned in and kissed him passionately: "I love you too, Tomcat".

Frankly, the prospect of helping out with the "Ground Zero" investigations in New York appealed to Terri's innate sense of goodness. She had a unique set of skills, which could not be simply and magically lifted off a storage shelf. Many people had experienced a truly shitty Tuesday the previous week, whereas she had managed to get home (eventually), hug her child and then - much later that night - hug her husband.

She counted her blessings - bringing closure to the relatives of the missing was a small part in which she could contribute to the human race. Terri was a pathologist and a Medical Examiner - and she was also one of the best in the USA. Her country needed her as Dr Coulter-Rabb, more importantly than Mommy Teresa.

 **For the next (potentially unlimited) period of time, Terri knew that her duty lay in bringing closure to the dead (and their families) of September 11th.**

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 **Tuesday 30th October 2001 - 15:34hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC:**

Terri knew, as she staggered back through the front door of her home with her cases and handbag, that life outside their front door would never be the same again. However, she was determined that life within the house would be as normal as possible for her, Harm and, most of all, their little daughter.

She yawned. If she could only have a brief nap, there was still a chance to create the magic of Hallowe'en for her daughter ready for tomorrow. She had fought hard (and worked even harder) to complete her tasks and assignments in time to get home to DC for Hallowe'en.

She had been feeling slightly queasy the past few mornings; her usually strong stomach had found the sights and smells of the temporary mortuary in New York to be particularly noxious. She knew that she could handle the normal smells of a mortuary, but a half-million tons of concrete (and, worryingly, huge amounts of the asbestos which were common construction materials in the late 1960s and early 1970s when the Twin Towers had been under construction) had merged into a particularly noxious mess around almost all of the body parts which had been found on the huge site of what was becoming known as "Ground Zero". The need to inspect every body part (and preserve the washings used to clean them) made Terri grateful that she had insisted on full NBC suits, with mask and gloves protection, for all her team. Terri reckoned that, sealed into her rubber suit for eight hours a day, she had sweated out around ten pounds; she definitely felt lighter.

So why did she feel queasy?

She had to get busy re-building her relationship with her father; Harm, Terri and Ellen (and Thomas Chaddock as well) deserved nothing less than the establishment of a fully-integrated grandfather in the Coulter-Rabb family. Five weeks away from home was enough separation.

Heading into the lounge, she left her suitcase in the hallway as she walked through her home, dumped her coat on the back of a chair, unzipped her boots, popped the side-zip and button on her skirt and stretched out on the settee. Within five minutes, Terri was asleep.

 **Terri and Harm would be determined to establish as normal as possible a Christmas for the first time in a post-September 11th world.**

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase Ten - "Legacy, Past Tense, a September morning" ** (parts 15, 16, 17)**

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	11. Family: Frozen friendship

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 11 - parts 18 and 19)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story..

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Phase Eleven of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Family" and "Frozen Friendship"**

A/N 30-07-2018: ...and now, on with Chapter Eleven. Warning - minor character death amongst the life events of 2001.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 11 - Part 18 - "Family".**

 **Tuesday 30th October 2001 - 18:02hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC:**

Harm met the FBI creche worker on their doorstep as arranged; knowing that Terri was due back home today, he had arranged the handover meeting so that Terri would have one less task on the day of her return and could be instantly re-united with her daughter. He saw Terri's Saab parked safely on the driveway and his heart sang at the confirmation of the return of his wife and lover (and his daughter's mother) from the taskforce in New York.

Harm had found her on the couch when he entered their home and showed Ellie (emphasising the need for silence) that her Mommy was safely home before leading Ellie into the kitchen for tea. Overjoyed that his wife (and the mother of his daughter) was safely home from the disaster zone of NYC, he had simply brought a blanket downstairs to cover her, then closed the lounge door as he tended to little Ellen (now approaching her 34-month "birthday") in the kitchen. He and Ellie then watched cartoons on TV in the study until it was Ellen's bedtime. Ellen settled quickly; just knowing that Mommy had come home and was safely back in the house was sufficient to settle the three-year-old - which in turn helped to settle Harm.

Harm looked down at Terri as she slept peacefully on the settee, tired from her four-hour drive from NYC. He had toyed with the idea of lifting Terri from the couch and carrying her up to bed, but he knew that his spine, already weakened by the historic 1991 crash in the ramp strike plus a career of carrier landings, was no longer in the best of shape to accomplish such a romantic (yet physically stressful) gesture, so he had thrown a blanket over her and left her to continue sleeping. Additionally, he rationalised (as he had come to appreciate during the physical pleasures of their marriage) that Terri was no lightweight - a fact that he had been grateful to witness when she had stomped and thumped and kicked her assailant Charlie Lynch into submission on the USS Seabridge during the Dar-Lin case as well as the recent case of the bogus journalist, who had definitely come off second-best to Terri's "creative" techniques for her self-defence...

Picking up Terri's coat and boots, Harm hung up the coat, then retrieved his polishing kit and brought both his service shoes and her boots up to a lustrous shine. He noticed some damage to the front of the toecap on her left boot. Harm knew that Terri had a habit of tapping her left foot, toe first, on the ground when she was worried or stressed; Harm could only imagine what horrors his Terri had witnessed, almost continuously, during her posting to NYC for the "Ground Zero" cleanup and investigations. Getting that toecap back to a military shine took him almost 15 minutes - time which he used to relax as the evening drew on.

He checked on Terri one final time before bed, leaving her a " _Welcome home darling - everything is ready for Hallowe'en_ " note on the coffee table with a night-light providing a glow-worm's level of illumination before he headed to bed, where he fell asleep instantly, somewhere between pulling back the sheets and his head landing on the pillow; his Teresa was home and all was well in the Coulter-Rabb world.

Very quickly, Harm sank into an even deeper, contented sleep; he had reluctantly adjusted to the weeks of sleeping alone during his wife's absence, but he knew that the separation was now at an end - the coming nights should be memorable once Terri actually made it upstairs to bed! Harm slept with a big, cheesy grin on his face. His wife was home, even if she was fast asleep downstairs on the settee. His family was complete once more - and family was very important to Harmon Rabb Jr.

Later in the night, Terri rolled over and fell off the couch, thereby waking herself in the near-total darkness. Fighting her way out of the blanket which had appeared - and cocooned her - whilst she slept, her eyes adjusted to the gloom and then she identified the night light. She read Harm's little note, smiled to herself and headed quietly upstairs, switching off the night light in the lounge. Dropping her remaining clothes in the corner of the bedroom (Terri was just too bone-tired to find the laundry basket in the bathroom), she slid under the covers alongside her Tomcat.

 **.**

 **Wednesday 31st October 2001 - 06:41hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Terri woke, after a good half-night's sleep in her own bed for the first time in about seven weeks. She knew that she had made the right decision - to come upstairs - after she had fallen off the couch just after midnight, so had taken the opportunity to head upstairs and get into bed without waking Harm - or so she thought. She woke up to find Harm's arms wrapped around her, one hand resting provocatively (and stimulatingly!) on her left breast as he continued to sleep soundly. This man obviously had a homing instinct when his wife was near - or at least one of his hands did!

Terri rolled onto her back, holding Harm's hand in place (well, it *WAS* a nice way to wake up!) and looked into the face of her sleeping husband, lover and father of her daughter. She was pleased to be home, but she still felt slightly queasy.

Harm opened one eye and looked lovingly at her; as he surfaced to full consciousness, he realised where his hand was resting. A teasing finger began to circulate over Terri's body; she felt a flush rising in her cheeks and ran a hand down Harm's body. She rapidly confirmed, from his body's reaction, that Harm was eager to welcome his wife home.

"Mmm, Tomcat, something tells me you are happy to have your Tennessee Bombshell back" she murmured as their tongues connected and she scooted across towards the centre-line of the bed, parting her legs to give him easier access to her body.

Then suddenly she started to feel really odd.

"Harm, hold up a minute". She placed a cautionary hand on his chest.

He paused, breathing heavily and evidently with a major blood-flow of excitement under way after seven weeks apart from his mate. "What is it, darling?"

"I'm not sure, but I feel as though I'm about to...…"

Terri got no further; with a look of horror on her face as she slid out from beneath Harm, she slipped off the bed, stood up straight and dashed to the bathroom. She just made it to the toilet where, kneeling down at the throne of the great god of porcelain, she began to retch.

Concerned, Harm knelt down beside her and comfortingly caressed her back - there was little else that he could do for his wife at that moment. He reached up and moistened a face cloth in warm water before handing it to her; she nodded her grateful thanks, before the retching started again.

Terri eventually drew breath. "Oh God, that was unpleasant" she said, squatting back onto her haunches. Then an idea occurred to her.

"Harm; bathroom cabinet please - look for the EPT box". She reached for her toothbrush and toothpaste. Harm smiled, stood up and within a minute he was back bearing an Emergency Pregnancy Test.

"Now, Tomcat, I need privacy for a few minutes".

He nodded and headed back into the bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind him.

Some minutes later, Terri emerged, with a mournful expression on her face.

As he looked, her facial expression blossomed into a look of extreme joy.

Harm raised an eyebrow - she nodded.

"Yes, darling Tomcat, you and I will be remembering September 2001 for all the right, positive reasons".

Harm thought back to the passionate weekend following September 11th; this meant that his wife was now approximately six or seven weeks along with their second child.

"Wow; Teresa Ellen, thank you so much; so, what does that do in terms of due dates?"

Terri thought for a moment, running the numbers. "Somewhere around mid-June; hopefully I'll avoid the worst of the hot weather next year" she replied.

She leaned in and kissed him passionately: "So, where were we, Tomcat? I reckon you were about to welcome your wife home?"

"Oh yeah, baby; let's continue - back to the bedroom!"

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Wednesday 31st October 2001 - 08:05hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

After showering, Harm and Terri donned their respective uniforms (Terri would be running a USN course that day) and, after breakfast, they headed out. Harm assisted Terri by buckling Ellen into the child-seat on the back of Terri's Saab. She placed her briefcase and cover on the front passenger seat of the Saab. Harm leaned in through the open car door.

"OK, Mommy Teresa; when do we start to go public with our news?" Harm's flyboy smile was back, in 500-watt radiance.

"Keep it quiet until week 13" admonished Terri. "I'll let my AD know as a courtesy (she shouldn't need to pull me from any investigations, but I reckon that she needs to be aware of my condition), but we're all in such turmoil since 9/11 that I don't believe that anyone else will notice so long as the ' _morning sickness_ ' is really confined to the first hour of wakefulness".

Harm nodded in agreement. He knew, from previous reading, that 13 weeks was normally the point at which one could set aside fears about a spontaneous miscarriage; after being kept in the dark for the first five months after Ellen's conception in '98, he intended to be fully involved from day one in this, their second pregnancy.

On leaving their home, Terri sat in her car and, before starting the engine, she looked down at the waistband of her "Peanut Butter" uniform skirt; she imagined the tiny life that was nestling there invisibly - yet was already upsetting the balance of her hormones. She smiled to herself: of course she knew that nothing was showing yet, but the miracle of life had taken root inside her once more - a sibling for Ellen and perhaps the long-awaited son for Harmon Rabb jr. It would, as she had said to Harm earlier, be a positive way to remember September of 2001.

Starting the car, she headed off, re-acquainting herself with the route to FBI headquarters after her weeks in New York.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Thursday 1st November 2001 - 20:08hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

"Teresa, what would be your reaction to the idea that we invite your father over for Thanksgiving?"

Harm posed the question as he carried the dinner plates across to the dishwasher; Terri and Ellie were heading to the lounge, where they would - as usual - snuggle down on the settee for a quarter-hour before bed-time.

She sat down and looked at him. "Well, he and I have chatted every month. You have met up with him to help him setting up his home and those couple of legal enquiries (and he was grateful for that). He never pushes this and it is clear that he is beginning to explore and enjoy civilian life, a little more every month as the court cases and the prison recede in his memory."

She paused reflectively, stroking Ellen's hair. Finally, she looked up at Harm.

"So - Hell yeah Tomcat, I reckon that my father has earned a Thanksgiving dinner with us - we also want this year of 2001 to be about American families and our continuing way of life, after the attacks in September. Darling, would you mind making the call please, because he obviously respects you and you have that bond from the hearings and the trial; I still have a ways to go on this estranged father-daughter dynamic".

Harm leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead. "God, I know once more that I have married the right woman: kind, generous, giving, considerate - and brilliant in bed!" He paused: "But I do sometimes wish that we had met ten years ago darling!"

Terri shrugged. "Hmm, there would have been a couple of problems with that idea; first and foremost, I was wearing another man's wedding ring and I was fully committed to my marriage vows! Second of all, I was exhausted around that time, with med school and Mom and everything else going on at Norfolk, Then, we were in the throes of Mom's death. I was a very different woman then and you might just not have been attracted to me back then. Nope, I am grateful for what we have now in 2001, Tomcat. Oh one more thing: I agree with your idea - let's keep the new baby news to ourselves as agreed until week 13 - OK, Tomcat?"

"Yes ma'am, Mommy Teresa" - her husband dutifully replied to his pregnant, wonderful, fulfilling and supportive young wife as he gently rubbed her tummy.

They hugged, eliciting an excited gurgle from Ellie who lay between them; she always drew comfort from the close way that her mommy and daddy hugged and caressed each together. She was a lucky child, enjoying the close loving relationship between her two parents.

 **November 2001 was definitely looking up.**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Thursday 22nd November 2001 - 12:05hrs EST (Thanksgiving Day)**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

The taxi bringing Thomas Chaddock across from his new home arrived on the driveway just a few minutes behind schedule. Harm and and Terri were proud to welcome Teresa's father to their home for this Thanksgiving Day, following the momentous events (both worldwide and within the Chaddock/Coulter family). Thomas was quickly introduced to his grand-daughter, who had grown since the previous photograph had been taken, a mere six weeks previously. He spent quite a while bouncing his grand-daughter on his knee. Thomas Chaddock knew that he had missed so much of family life; he rejoiced that his daughter - and her husband - were reaching out to include him in this new millennium. The 18 months since his acquittal at the retrial had seen Thomas made significant steps towards building a new life which would see out his remaining days as a free man.

Harm and Terri took turns in the kitchen, whilst showing Thomas Chaddock through the photo albums which chronicled their lives.

By the end of the day when his taxi arrived to take him home, all three of them felt that his rehabilitation (and their re-integration of him into their family) had made good and solid progress. Things were definitely looking up: Harm had invited his "new" father-in-law to join him on Christmas Eve to meet Harm's father - a visit to the Vietnam Memorial beckoned. The retired Captain Thomas Chaddock USN had readily and eagerly agreed to join in with Harm's long-standing tradition - he was proud that his newly-discovered son-in-law trusted him sufficiently to honour him with an invitation to this important anniversary in the Rabb family calendar.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Thursday 13th December 2001 - 19:46hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

As Christmas continued to draw nearer, Harm and Terri were relaxing on the sofa after their evening meal, with little Ellen cocooned between them, watching the NBC evening news and digesting the continued flow of troubling worldwide events; the news of the suicide attack on the Indian parliament in New Delhi was being covered in some considerable detail. Ellen rolled over, pressing on Terri's waist. Terri reacted, aware of her three-month foetus, and caressed Ellie's hair as she settled the young girl comfortably into the gap between her parents' bodies. She rested a hand on her waist and looked at her husband.

"Harm, I reckon we can safely start telling people about our news - what do you think?"

"Good idea darling; I had intended to ask you on the 16th, which I reckon would be the three month anniversary of the C-O-N-C-E-P-T-I-O-N" he spelled out for the benefit of Ellie's hearing. "How about I let Harriet Sims know tomorrow and we call La Jolla now? Then, the next question is how we tell my father-in-law".

"Well, I've also been thinking about that. How about each of us tells his or her parents? You know that we need to confirm timings for Christmas dinner - oh, and I want an alcohol-free house for that day; Dad's lost enough of his life to the bottle and I'm not going to provide any temptation for him to slide back".

Harm caressed her cheek. "Terri, I reckon that the volunteer work he is doing at the homeless shelter (now that the Navy financial settlement has funded his purchase of a home and established his pension) is giving him a constant reminder of the damage that alcohol can do. He is a good man who got led astray, Terri - you and I both realise that. He'll probably spend the rest of his life making amends and, as his only remaining family, we can be proud of how we are assisting him to move forward".

Terri leaned over Ellie and kissed her husband, becoming aware of the slight limitation in her upper body's flexibility due to her pregnancy. "Wow, my lovely considerate Tomcat; thank you".

"My pleasure, darling. I *am* however planning to use a small cup of brandy to 'flame' the plum pudding - ok?"

Terri nodded in agreement, then kissed Ellie as Harm picked up their daughter to take her up to her bedroom. When he returned 15 minutes later, Terri reached for the phone and handed it to Harm.

The afternoon siesta in La Jolla was disturbed by the phone call, but Trish Burnett was - as always - pleased to hear from her son and the wonderful woman (in Tricia's opinion) who had tamed the wild Tomcat.

"Hi Mom, how's tricks on the West Coast?"

"Pretty good, son; we're both fine and, of course, wondering when you'll be back out this way".

"Well Mom, we've got a bit of a temporary limitation on flying coming up on that for the next six months or so beyond January. Is Frank around and can you get him on the phone please?"

With rising excitement, Trish summoned Frank Burnett to the other line; at the click, his voice joined the conversation; "Hello Harm, Terri and granddaughter; how are things in pre-Christmas DC?"

"Very good Dad" (since becoming a father himself, Harm had steadily developed his relationship with Frank further; he was now proud to acknowledge his step-father with the 'Dad' title). "We are all fine here, plus we have a little bit of family news". He hugged Terri and whispered " _You tell them_ " in her ear. She giggled slightly and kissed his neck before she took over the 'phone.

"Hi Trish and Frank; well, 13 weeks in, we can now let you know that Ellen is going to have a brother or a sister in about six months from now". She instinctively held the handset away from her ear and was - as she expected - rewarded with the expected squeal of excitement from the California end of the conversation.

"Oh darlings, congratulations; have you told Ellie yet?"

"No, but once I tell Harriet Sims-Roberts tomorrow, I expect she'll be able to advise me on how she broke the news to her children when she was pregnant. Unfortunately she lost a baby - little Sarah, stillborn in childbirth - just over a year ago last November, but from conversations with her and Bud I believe that they have healed some of the hurt. I don't have any reservations about asking her for advice, unless you have any views on that, Mom?"

Trisha thought for a moment before replying. "Well Harm, at the time of my miscarriage when your father was lost, I was pretty morose for some months, but my friends rallied round and, years later, Frank was wonderfully supportive when I finally opened up to him. Yes, I reckon that Harriet should be in a good state to advise both of you - and as you know she gets hyperactive whenever there is gossip, family news, or weddings and christenings! I would say ' _go for it, my children_ ' and bring Harriet into the circle of knowledge about Teresa's pregnancy". The warmth in Tricia's voice was evident. Harm nodded, and looked into Terri's eyes for confirmation. She nodded back.

"OK Mom, we'll do that. Having dedicated this year's Thanksgiving to getting Terri's dad back into circulation, we reckon we will have a quiet family Christmas here in DC but - if Terri is up to it - we'd like to come visit you in the snowy months starting after the New Year holidays."

OK, how about Valentine's or the end of January depending on Teresa's comfort with flying?"

Terri thought for a second, then replied "Let's go for January - I have plans for my Tomcat on Valentine's Day of 2002 and I really wouldn't want to be flying once I'm past the mid-point of my pregnancy in late January!"

Raising his eyebrows in pleasant anticipation of his mid-February Valentine's present, Harm confirmed the idea of a late-January trip to the relative warmth of California.

Terminating the call, Harm and Terri concentrated on getting Ellen ready for bed, before settling once more on the family couch in their lounge.

Harm leaned across and nuzzled Terri's pulse-point at the base of her neck. She groaned in pleasure: "Oh Lord, Tomcat, you know what that does to me - and I'm already living with the consequences of September!" She leaned across and took his head in her hands, kissing him passionately.

Harm smiled and relaxed, looking into her eyes. "Well, Terri, I have one New Year resolution already in mind for you".

Terri raised an enquiring eyebrow. "Go on", she prompted.

He smiled before continuing: "Try not to get kidnapped next year - with Charlie Lynch and that bogus reporter this year, you're closing in on Meg Austin's record for ' _damsel in distress_ ' moments".

She hugged him then settled with her head on his shoulder. "Yes, whatever happened to Meg after you got arrested back in '96?"

He shrugged. "She disappeared into 'secret squirrel' land and hasn't emerged yet. I'd certainly like to make contact with her again, if only to thank her for starting to clear my name over Diane's death. It's been over five years, which should more than cover the duration of any TAD or PCS posting".

"Yes, you owe her big thanks for that; wasn't there another blonde JAG Commander who was working that case with you that you told me about". She paused, her brow furrowed and her left toecap digging into the ground. "I want to call her Chaddock but that's obviously a confusion with my maiden name" Terri continued, her brow furrowed in trying to remember.

Harm puzzled over his answer for a moment, then his face brightened. "Aha, you mean Alison Krennick - my very own obsessive cougar!"

Terri raised her other eyebrow. "Cougar?"

"Yes, a late-30s, pushy, husky-voiced smoking three-ring Commander, great litigator but a lousy investigator and with the sexual morals of an alley cat, although I'm not sure she ever actually got laid - she was just too eager; she chased me round a desk on more than one occasion. She was quite clear that I was one of her targets. She even rocked up at my apartment once (twice actually around March of '96, before and after a case which took us to Cuba). I was cooking and she made it clear that I was on her menu for dessert. The first time, she stood there in this purple cycling top, leaning over the counter in my galley playing with my eggs and I swear she had nothing on underneath - she was quite forward in her pose over the table that day."

Terri looked up, at Harm's obvious discomfort at telling the story, even five years afterwards. "So did she get the dessert that she came for - and it doesn't matter if she did, because you and I both came into this marriage with a past, my darling Tomcat".

"No, but she came back for 'round two' when we returned from Cuba; this time, she came straight from the flight home, in her Dress Whites, slipped off her heels and headed for my bathroom to get ready - and was really offended to find a woman already in my shower".

Terri looked up: "Really? Wow - that must have put a kink in her plan".

Harm smiled, thinking back to Krennick's face: "Oh yeah baby; she stomped out in a huge temper before I could introduce her to Jack Keeter's former girlfriend, an Iberia airlines stewardess named Maria Elena Carmelita Moreno Gutierrez, who was on a layover in Dulles and wanted to enjoy the wonderful water pressure of my shower".

"Don't tell me, another happy landing?" enquired Terri. Harm shook his head.

"No, just a good friend - getting involved with Maria Elena would have broken the code".

"Code?" Terri's eyebrows were heading skywards again as she struggled to understand her husband.

"Yes; you don't date the ex-girlfriends of your male friends".

"Wow, honour amongst the chauvinists! So Maria Elena and this Alison Krennick didn't join your Harmon's harem?" Terri laughed. She rolled over on the couch and slid her right hand beneath him. "Besides, I prefer my tomcats to be experienced and house-broken". Her left hand, bearing her wedding ring, began to slowly unzip her husband's trousers as she smiled up at him conspiratorially as her fingers began to probe inside: "Remember Tomcat, house-broken but never neutered!"

Harm shifted uncomfortably as his body responded to her touch. Sometimes, there were uncomfortable - yet pleasurable - consequences to being married to one of DC's most-capable pathologists!

"Darling wife Teresa, let's take this upstairs".

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 11 - Part 19 - "Frozen friendship".**

 **Tuesday** **25th December 2001 - 07:25hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Christmas morning started early in the Coulter-Rabb household, as little Ellen woke the house early by shaking all the presents beneath the Christmas tree, trying to identify the contents. At the moment of sunrise, Harm and Terri were sitting on the couch watching their daughter when Terri's cell-phone rang. She looked at the number display and swore lightly under her breath. Harm patted her shoulder and stood up.

Something major was obviously up, so he helpfully handed Terri a note-pad and a pen; she looked up and smiled gratefully at him, blowing him a kiss as she returned to concentrate on the conversation. Harm could only hear Teresa's side of the conversation;

"Dr Coulter-Rabb...…. Yes...… Err, no boss, not ideal timing but I guess that your four-year-old and husband had the same views a half-hour ago...… Yes of course, one hour from now at HQ unless you contact me again with a re-direct. I'll be there. Yes ma'am, Merry Christmas".

She closed the call and looked across at Harm, apologies written across her face.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her passionately. "Hey Darling, don't fret - when duty calls, duty calls. It must be serious to call you before breakfast on a Christmas morning so I guess that someone is having a *really* shitty Christmas Day?".

"Yes, there was a big fire in a warehouse at the back of Georgetown last night; at 0345hrs this morning, fire crews found a number of padlocked freezers in the back rooms when they were working through the building and damping down; they opened the first two and found a frozen woman's body in each, then backed out and called Metro PD; PD attended around 04:25hrs, got the fire crews to open the next two freezers, found two more bodies and called the FBI at 05:40hrs. It looks like we may have a serial on our hands and we have inadvertently uncovered his dumping ground".

Harm picked up Ellie and snuggled his daughter. "Well, if Mommy goes to shower, Daddy will sort out a cereal for his little 'cereal killer' and then Mommy can enjoy her breakfast and play with Ellie whilst Daddy showers quickly and dresses ahead of Mommy's departure". He rejoiced in the flexibility of his household, which enabled both - or either - of them to handle any work-related interruption to their domestic arrangements. "G'wan, git in that thar shower, Mrs Rabb".

Terri tossed him a mock-salute; "Aye-Aye, Cap'n". Opening the bedroom curtains slightly, she peeked out and shivered: "Looks cold out there" she reported.

"Don't worry, I'll warm your boots near the fire and get your coat warmed; it's a good job our cars are in the garages - for today, do you want to leave me the Saab and take my Lexus given the weather? That way your only decision is your underwear and I am *definitely* not expressing an opinion there!"

"Oh good thought. Thanks Tomcat - I'll take the Lexus; I'll be wearing grey and black, so I'll take the black long boots please and please prepare some coffee to go, along with the long grey greatcoat and please lay out the box of disposable examination gloves so I can shove a few into my coat pockets". Even as she headed for the shower, the pathologist in Terri was planning ahead.

"Aye aye, ma'am!". Harm dug her medical/ME "go-bag" out of the hall closet and left it by the front door with a box of blue rubber examination gloves on top, then "flew" Ellie, airplane style, through the house and placed her, giggling happily, in in her high chair at the breakfast bar.

A bowl of Cheerios and milk quietened Ellie down, so Harm put four eggs on the hob to boil and carved off four slices of the organic loaf, ready to toast when Terri started down the stairs. He then retrieved his polishing kit and checked over Terri's long black winter boots. A flick of a duster was all that was needed to leave them gleaming once more, so he placed them, along with her long grey coat, in front of the fireplace and lit the gas fire. Everything was safely protected beyond the fire-guard. He was just glad to be able to support his wife with a warm send-off on this, their Christmas Day, to help commence the process of bringing eventual closure to the families of the newly-discovered victims.

After showering, Terri dressed quickly in a black roll-neck sweater and pulled her hair back into a pony-tail. During the past year since her father's re-trial, she had let her hair grow and was now proud that her blonde mane now reached well below her shoulder-blades. A heavy knee-length grey woollen skirt completed her ensemble - she had built up her winter wardrobe since heading north from Tennessee. She pulled out her small cross from around her neck and displayed it on the front of her sweater around the base of her collar - it was, after all, Christmas Day. Heading downstairs into the kitchen, she rapidly munched her way through two of the hardboiled eggs, together with the two pieces of buttered toast which Harm had started in the toaster as he heard her descend the stairs. She filled a large insulated mug with hot black coffee, secured the lid and left it alongside her bag and case in the hall.

Heading into the lounge, Terri retrieved her boots from by the fire; she inhaled the comforting aroma of warm leather and polish as she admired her husband's work, then she sat on the settee, pulled on a pair of thin long socks over her thigh-high stockings then pulled on her boots and zipped them up to her knees. Terri was doing all in her power to resist the cold of the DC dawn.

As she stood up, Harm was ready to help her into her warmed grey great-coat; as she buttoned the coat from knees to throat, he reached behind him to hand her a wrapped, soft present.

"Harm, I don't have time for..." her protest was silenced with a silencing finger on her lips and a kiss on her forehead. "Darling, it will only delay you by 30 seconds: 29, 28, 27..."

She relented and unwrapped the package, which revealed a black, Soviet-era fur Naval Officer's hat, known as a " _uschanka_ ".

"Oh Harm, it's beautiful"; she popped it onto her head and looked in the hallway mirror: "Oh, very 'Doctor Zhivago' - and ideal for today's cold; but when did you get this?"

Harm hugged her, then adjusted the hat slightly to place the badge above her nose at the centre-line. "It is actually a gift from your half-brother-in-law. He gave it to me as we parted in Russia, with the request to ' _present this to the lovely lady who has given you that satisfied, contented smile, my brother_ ' - so here you are on Christmas morning".

Terri looked in the long mirror in the hallway and did a model's twirl. "It looks good; darn, I could have worn my USN uniform".

"Hmm, well darling, those boots would be non-approved for a US Naval officer - and those heels are a no-no for uniform compliance. Plus, today sounds like it is wall-to-wall FBI business, Agent Coulter-Rabb".

"Oh heck yeah - trousers only with the Naval uniform. Anyway, this is a great present and thank Sergei when you speak with him".

"I surely will; and here is one more small present from me in the remaining five seconds." He picked a small package off the side table and handed it to her.

Giggling at the flood of gifts, Terri impatiently tore open the small wrapped package and drew out, with a gasp of pleasure, a pair of long black kid-leather gloves; pulling them on, she realised that Harm had managed to match, perfectly, her hand-size. They fitted snugly and wrapped perfectly around her fingers, with the long cuffs tucked up inside the sleeves of her coat, neatly overlapping the cuffs of her sweater. Apart from the tops of her stockings as she walked, Terri Coulter-Rabb was now draught-proof.

"OK Harm, enough of the black leather, I need to get going, really". She gave him a final peck on the cheek, then headed for the front door, the regular cadence of her boot-heels walking along the wooden floor, pausing only to pick up her coffee and bag, tuck the examination gloves into her coat pocket and then she was opening the front door, car-keys in hand.

Harm closed the front door behind him and stood in the storm porch to wave his wife farewell. The automatic lights covering the front driveway had perfectly illuminated Terri's path to the garage doors and she pulled away smoothly in the Lexus, the auto-closer bringing the garage door back down to its secured position.

Harm headed back into the home to tend to Ellie's next demands.

 **Tuesday 25th December 2001 - 08:53hrs EST**

 **Crime scene, warehouse district, near Dean & Deluca, Georgetown, **Washington DC****

"Hey Doc, nice hat!"

As she pinned her FBI credentials on the front of her coat and stepped into the crime scene after identifying herself to the Metropolitan PD officer at the checkpoint, Terri was greeted by Detective Charlie Chandler, one of the (very) few men who had caught her attention back in Memphis PD days. He had transferred to the Metropolitan Police district of DC some years earlier and Terri had lost track of him.

"Hey, Merry Christmas, Charlie; thank you. How's life treating you since you abandoned us in Memphis for the big bad city?"

As she spoke, Terri absent-mindedly removed her leather gloves and tucked them into her coat pocket, prior to pulling out two of the forensic gloves from the other pocket of her coat. Charlie's eyes focussed on her wedding and engagement rings. "Pretty good, all in all. Wow, congratulations Teresa; who's the lucky guy?"

"A Commander in the US Navy's JAG Corps, now based here in DC - hence my transfer to the FBI. He and I have a three-year-old daughter and..." she gestured down to her waist "...number two will be with us in around six months".

Chandler took his glove off and flashed a wedding band. "Well, I guess that we have both been lucky since we last met; a brilliant girl called Caroline has made my life complete - and also dragged me up here to DC. We're still practicing for children, though" he ended with a smile.

As the two friends laughed, Terri's ASAC leaned across; "Sorry to break up the reunion folks, but I need Doctor Coulter-Rabb in that room - the fire is fully out throughout the building and the floor is safe, just watch for any odd bits of debris on the floor in the darkness; our techs are still setting up the illumination". The woman looked at Terri's hat; "Nice hat, Doctor".

"OK I'm on it, boss - and thanks; not sure what it will do to my hairstyle, though". Terri pulled on her forensic gloves and stepped forward.

As Terri's eyes adjusted to the gloom, an MPD officer handed her a large flashlight; she nodded her gratitude and stepped on into the back room of the partially-destroyed building.

A line of commercial chest-freezers lined the back wall; someone had already sprayed a reference number on each and FBI evidence tags were attached to the handles. Terri observed that the first four had been opened by the simple expedient of slamming a fireman's axe through the padlock and hasp. Terri's head swivelled steadily, keeping aligned as her torch illuminated the chain of freezers:

"#1", (opened by the fire crews)

"#2", (ditto)

"#3", (opened by MPD)

"#4", (ditto)

"#5", (still padlocked shut)

"#6", (ditto)

"#7"...

Steadily, her sweep around the room continued; Terri gave up counting at "10" - she would have her work cut out and her Christmas Day had probably already finished with the early-morning present-giving at home before she had left to travel over here. She pressed her index and middle fingers against the front of her coat (over the point where her cross nestled beneath), settled the fur hat more closely on her head and lifted the heavy lid to open "coffin" number one.

Her flashlight illuminated an odd scene as she scanned down the body from the cover; a female corpse, wearing a complete USN Summer Whites Uniform with the three broad stripes of a Commander's rings, complete in every detail (on a cursory inspection) from cover to seriously high-heeled white shoes and with medal ribbons and name badge. Terri didn't recognise the name, but started logging her first impressions using a voice recorder and making notes on a clip-board which the evidence techs had laid on top of each "coffin".

A tentative probing finger confirmed to Terri that the woman's body was still frozen stiff; Terri shivered involuntarily and thanked her luck stars for the hat, coat, boots and thermal underwear which she was wearing. She knew that, within a couple of hours, she might have to think about withdrawing to somewhere warmer; her little pregnant hitch-hiker was still snug and warm inside his/her mommy, but she knew that there were sensible limits to how long a pregnant mommy should spend hunched over these coffins, breathing in ice-cold air, during the fourth month of her pregnancy.

She closed the lid of freezer #1 and called to her evidence tech. "Hey Williams, just as a matter of interest, would it be possible to get all these freezers in a reefer unit back to the Hoover building and my labs, please? I would obviously need the chain of evidence to be maintained and to get the power restored to the freezers until I can run a carefully-managed controlled defrost of the corpses, please".

Mary-Anne Williams popped her head around the doorframe from the inner room where she had been gathering evidence: "Dunno doc, but I can sure ask - and I'll ask for temporary power in the trucks during the transit to HQ to keep the freezers running, doc".

"OK Williams, thanks and please get the wheels in motion and make it so". Terri lifted the second freezer lid, rested it against the back wall and leaned in, bending down to start examining the second corpse. This time, working on "Coffin #2", she began at the woman's feet and worked steadily upwards. She had already noted that the woman - unlike "number #1" - was a blonde. She grunted - that heel height was definitely not USN standard!

Her flashlight illuminated the woman's name plate. Her gloved finger removed the thin sheen of frost and she gazed at the lettering.

Terri's loud groan brought several people running, thinking that she needed assistance. Fighting the urge to retch, she re-read the dead woman's nameplate.

"Oh my lord"!

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Tuesday** **25th December 2001 - 11:16hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Harm had been pottering around the house since Terri's unexpected Christmas Day summons to work, keeping little Ellie distracted from worrying about her mom's absence on Christmas morning and preparing the Christmas meal. They had previously purchased a pre-cooked turkey, so that he only needed an hour to have all the trimmings ready for a great Coulter-Rabb family Christmas. The vegetables were sitting, all prepared, in a set of saucepans on the hob. Thomas Chaddock was due at 1200noon, so the distraction of having Grandpa coming over should also help keep little Ellie from worrying about mom - well, that was Harm's theory at least!

His cell-phone chirped into action, sounding out the ringtone which he had programmed for Teresa's cellphone number: the Trisha Yearwood's ballad " _How do I live?_ ".

"Hey darling, how goes it?"

"Not very well, Harm and, darling, I need you to sit down first before I continue". Terri's voice was subdued and it was clear that she was crying. Harm's protective antennae went into full sensitivity mode; this tough Tennessee gal didn't let much get through her professional suit of armour.

Harm's stress and worry levels were rising steadily as he moved to the kitchen chair and sat down. "Terri; what's wrong darling?"

"Oh Harm; there is no easy way to tell you this and I know you've already lost a number of friends...": her voice tailed off.

"Teresa, you are one of the strongest women that it has ever been my pleasure to know (apart from Alison Krennick whom I described to you a while back - and she came with her own unique set of challenges and wasn't a pleasure, but she was tough as nails). Come on darling, tell hubby Harmon what's wrong".

At his last reply, Terri had started crying again; she slowly regained her composure and Harm waited patiently. She was obviously tense and he could imagine the toecap of her left boot digging into the floor of the burned-out crime scene as her stress took its toll on her footwear. He'd be polishing again tonight!

"Harm, we have opened the first four freezers out of at least ten in this room and so far we have found four women in US Naval uniform, all four of them wearing the rank rings of full commanders; two brunettes and two blondes."

"Well, it could be a sick game of dress-up, played out by some perverted UNSub" he offered as an explanation. "On a practical note, who would know if we have even lost or mislaid four female commanders?"

"Hmm, good question; well, we have called in NCIS urgently, for fingerprint scanning on the first four corpses before we move forward, but if this is true..." her voice tailed off again.

"Teresa, please tell me; what has got you so upset?"

There was a long, deep sigh from the other end of the phone call before Terri swallowed hard and began to speak, although her tears continued.

"There is no easy way to tell you this darling..."

Teresa paused and took a deep breath before continuing.

"Oh dear God, Harm, it looks like we've just found Alison Krennick".

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 11 - "** **"Family" and "frozen friendship"** **(parts 18 and 19)**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**


	12. Autopsy: Birthday: Victim01

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 12 - parts 20, 21 and 22)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N.

 **A/N:** Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos, because my goal is 100% error-free stories (sometimes, forming a chapter over three weeks leads you to become "word-blind" as you re-check your creation). Feedback and comments are also welcome at any time via the website because I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. On which note - thank you, **ad694** for your review on 02/08/2018; " _This duo of Rabb/Coulter_ " - as you call them - will continue their adventures for a while yet. Mike

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Phase Twelve of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Autopsy" and "Birthday" and "Victim 2002/1"**

A/N 03-08-2018: The vacation was productive and I sketched out the next couple of chapters and launched Ch 11 with completion of Ch12 not far behind... so now, on with Chapter Twelve. Little Ellie has a birthday and Terri plunges into the darkness, applying her excellent forensic skills as she works on a case which comes close to home with someone from Harm's past, via a minor XO into "NCIS" territory for this chapter and Ch13.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 12 - Part 20 - "Autopsy".**

 **Tuesday 25th December 2001 - 11:16hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Harm had been pottering around the house since Terri's unexpected Christmas Day morning summons to work, keeping little Ellie distracted from worrying about her mom's absence on Christmas morning and preparing the Christmas meal. They had previously purchased a pre-cooked turkey, so that he only needed an hour to have all the trimmings ready for a great Coulter-Rabb family Christmas dinner, timed to be served when her father arrived at 12:00hrs. The vegetables were sitting, all prepared, in a set of saucepans on the hob - apart from re-heating the turkey, the longest-time items were Harm's home-made roast potatoes, using his mom Trisha's patented process to deliver crispy roasties.

He checked the seating plan. Thomas Chaddock was due at 1200noon, so the distraction of having Grandpa coming over should also help keep little Ellie from worrying about Mom - well, that was Harm's theory!

His cell-phone chirped into action, sounding out the ringtone which he had programmed for Teresa's cellphone number - the Trisha Yearwood ballad " _How do I live?_ "

"Hey darling, how goes it?"

"Not very well Harm and, darling, I need you to sit down first before I continue". Terri's voice was subdued and it was clear that she was crying. Harm's protective antennae went into full sensitivity mode; this tough Tennessee gal didn't let much get through her professional suit of armour.

Harm's stress and worry levels were rising steadily as he moved to the kitchen chair and sat down. "Terri; what's wrong darling?"

"Oh Harm; there is no easy way to tell you this and I know you've already lost a number of friends...": her voice tailed off.

"Teresa, you are one of the strongest women that it has ever been my pleasure to know (apart from Alison Krennick whom I described to you a while back - and she came with her own unique set of challenges and wasn't a pleasure, but she was tough as nails). Come on darling, please tell hubby Harmon what's wrong - what's happened?"

At his last reply and the mention of Alison Krennick, Terri had started crying again; she slowly regained her composure and Harm waited patiently. She was obviously tense and he could imagine the toecap of her left boot digging into the floor of the burned-out crime scene as her stress took its toll on her footwear. He'd be polishing again tonight!

"Harm, we have opened the first four freezers out of at least ten in this room and so far we have found four women in US Naval uniform, all four of them wearing the rank rings of full commanders; two brunettes and two blondes."

"Well, it could be a sick game of dress-up, played out by some perverted UNSub" he offered as an explanation, picking up her FBI-speak shorthand for 'the bad guy'. "On a practical note, who would know if we have even lost or mislaid four female commanders?"

"Hmm, good question; well, we have called in NCIS urgently, for fingerprint scanning on these first four naval corpses once we thaw out a finger each before we move forward, but if this is true..." her voice tailed off again.

"Teresa, please tell me; what has got you so upset?"

There was a long, deep sigh from the other end of the phone call before Terri swallowed hard and began to speak, although her tears continued.

"There is no easy way to tell you this darling..." Teresa paused and took a deep breath before continuing.

 **"Oh dear God, Harm, it looks like we've just found Alison Krennick".**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

Harm gulped; even though he had been disturbed by Krennick's dogged pursuit of him half a decade earlier, it was something that he had been able to handle with his customary polite good humour.

At the time he had felt – slightly – pleased to be pursued by a woman who gave the impression of knowing what she wanted. Then she had disappeared at the end of the investigation into Diane's death, way back in late May '96 and, frankly, Harm hadn't given her another thought in the intervening years, especially after solving the mystery of Diane's murder (an event which happened just a month before his first, life-changing, meeting with Terri in April of '98).

Harm hoped that Alison's body had not lain undiscovered for five or more years. He sighed; that would be a waste of a good woman and career Navy officer, even if her womanly charms had not been appreciated in his home - and on her terms - in the past. Alison's fit body should have been able to make a man happy - and ensure her own personal satisfaction along the way.

He realised that Terri was calling his name again, tearfully waiting for his answer.

"Sorry darling, I zoned out there for a minute; I'm back in the planet now. Oh boy - any idea how long she's been down there?"

"Nope, we start looking for a pattern next based upon disappearance dates of the other victims as we slowly identify them - but I reckon that she's probably been down here for quite a while. Tomcat, please think back to when you last saw her, because NCIS are going to need help. They'll need to gather *any* intel on her movements in *any* year to work out what happened and when it may have happened. Hell, even being able to narrow it down to a particular year would be helpful. Now, on a slightly lighter matter my darling Tomcat, shall we delay Christmas by a day or will you do the presents and cover for me with Ellie and my Dad?"

Harm's pride in his lovely wife grew once more: even surrounded by death, working to bring truth and a story to the dead and give them closure, Momma Teresa was thinking of her real-life family and especially her daughter. Harm knew, once more, that he had married the right woman.

"Teresa, I reckon our daughter deserves Christmas today on schedule. Anyway, her Grandpa will be here in around 40 minutes, so we'll make a Christmas of it today and you can share a snack with me later; hey, are you eating adequately, pregnant momma?" Sometimes, being married to a senior FBI agent brought a unique set of worries.

"Yes, burgers and fruit juice so far on the order, plus when Gibbs arrives I expect he will have access to Marine-grade coffee so I will be both awake *and* well-fed. See ya later Tomcat and I'll aim to check in around 1600hrs".

"Ok Teresa; be safe - and not more than two burgers in the day; please tell that Agent Gibbs!" He ended with a laugh in his voice.

"Always, darling Tomcat. Harm, look after our daughter please - given what I am standing in right now, I'll need to come home to you both at some point tonight - and I definitely *need* to come home to you, darling Tomcat tonight and back to sanity". Terri was starting to fill up with tears again as she spoke to Harm.

"My pleasure, darling Teresa - sending a big hug down the phone now".

Terri was slightly relieved: she always liked to hear Harm using her full name, because somehow it brought her closer to her Tomcat, even as she stood in the burned-out warehouse about to start processing the frozen corpses of over ten women who seemed to have done nothing wrong, other than having fallen into the clutches of some evil madman - or madwoman, she thought in the interests of remaining open-minded as to the identity of her UNSub. But she wasn't ready to let go of her loving husband's voice in her ear just yet.

Back at their home, Harm momentarily closed his eyes and offered up a quick prayer for his former nemesis; no-one deserved to depart this life in that manner.

In fairness, Alison's behaviour was not a million miles from how _Boomer_ and _Zapper_ used to behave on liberty - it just shocked his sense of " _male superiority, cocky jet jockey_ " when a woman turned huntress.

Harm thought back across the years - he really should be able to deal with being pursued by a lustful woman. He realised that he should have expected this, in the era of equality - and after "Tailhook" in the '90s, many males had wondered about improving their dating technique. He came back down to earth and continued the conversation with Terri.

"OK Terri; look, shall I go ahead with Christmas lunch for Ellie and your father, with presents, hoping to hear from you around 1600hrs if I don't hear from you before. Then I'll wait for the night-time meal for the two of us, so that we can eat together".

"Thanks Tomcat". Terri closed the call and her "warm & fuzzy" feelings of home life were instantly dissipated as she came back to the reality around her. The DC Police were waiting for her directions, with questions regarding her desired disposition of the corpses and the freezers which contained each of the ten women on this floor.

Sliding her cellphone into her pocket and switching fully back into " _FBI Agent_ " mode, Momma Teresa straightened her shoulders and strode determinedly towards the freezers, stepping across puddles to try and reduce her husband's polishing workload. At her seventh step, she failed, with an audible splash!

 **Tuesday 25th December 2001 - 11:53hrs EST**

 **Crime scene, warehouse district, near Dean & Deluca, M Street NW, Georgetown, Washington DC**

"OK Doc, we have taken good-quality fingerprints from all ten women on the main floor. This has confirmed that numbers #1 through #4 are definitely USN officers (we have their names and details) who have been missing for various periods of time and Agent Gibbs has a theory on the pattern".

As he spoke to Terri, McGee was holding the mobile fingerprint device on a cord from his wrist, as he made notes on his PDA. Two police officers, holding hair dryers, gave quiet proof to the methods which had been needed to obtain the fingerprints from the solidly-frozen women.

Terri looked up at the grey-haired former Marine who was walking in her direction.

"Morning Doctor Coulter-Rabb, a bad business": Gibbs shook his head sorrowfully and consulted his notebook.

"Agreed, Agent Gibbs. Oh, Merry Christmas, by the way; even with this terrible discovery today, standing here surrounded by death, I want to remember the renewal of hope that Christ's birth brought, 2001 years ago". Terri touched her cross - the action wasn't missed by Gibbs, who smiled supportively.

"Amen, Doc and thanks - and I do mean that sincerely - for reminding me of today's special status. Today of all days, I reckon that we have a greater reason than ever to identify and bring the killer of these ladies to justice - so that their families can celebrate their re-discovery on Christmas Day and the convictions of the SoB later". Gibbs picked up his coffee from a nearby table, sipped it and grimaced as he realised how many hours it had been cooling down.

He flipped the pages in his notebook. "Right; in order of the freezer number". He drew in a breath and blew out some of his tension before beginning the litany of names.

"#1 - USN Commander Louise Ford- DoB March 1958, 5'6"; single: reported UA Thursday June 2nd 1994: brunette;"

"#2 - USN Commander Alison Krennick; DoB 06-Jan-1960 5'8" (1.73m); single: reported UA on Monday June 3rd 1996: Blonde;"

"#3 - USN Commander Suzanne Winchester - DoB June 1961, 5'7"; divorced without children: reported UA Tuesday June 2nd 1998: brunette";

He paused and looked up at Terri; "Seeing a pattern yet, Doc?"

Terri nodded mutely, then shone her torch on freezer #4. Gibbs resumed:

"#4 - USN Commander Amanda Barcroft - DoB March 1963, 5'11"; hmm, tall girl - single: reported UA 18 months ago on Friday June 2nd 2000; another blonde".

Terri looked into the freezer as one of the FBI techs ran a tape-measure along the top edge, confirming the dimensions. "Yes, her height looks about right given the details on her records. If you look, he's had to bend her knees to force her body to fit into the freezer- especially with those damn silly high-heeled shoes. They are definitely not standard-issue for a female officer's uniform".

She sighed. "Dear God Gibbs, what are we up against - a calendar-obsessed serial with a shoe fetish instead of an alphabet killer?"

"Looks that way, Doc; look, we don't recognise numbers #5 through #10 from military sources, which makes them probable civilian victims - and you are also double-timing here as my senior (and only!) FBI ME representative. My suggestion: do you want to take them for the FBI and get the DNA samples running against MISPERS, whilst I get 'Ducky' Mallard to process our known naval ladies here?"

Terri sighed. "In the normal course of events, Agent Gibbs, I would say yes, but in this case I shall call in reinforcements when I can brief my ASAC - wherever she's disappeared to. However, you need to know that my husband was acquainted with Alison Krennick back around early '96, so I feel an extra measure of loyalty to her, as his 'friend' from JAG days, to start investigating these four USN military casualties first, before I start on those victims who are apparently civilians. Hell, it's Christmas Day so no-one is going to be chasing for reports over the next couple of days, probably until New Year. We need to do the best-possible job with the most exact science, so I'm thinking of double-teaming with Dr Mallard. Let's..."

Terri's musings were interrupted by Mary-Anne Williams, who popped her head around the doorframe and hollered: "Doc? We've just penetrated the floor level below here and.…" Williams hesitated.

Terri looked at her, then turned and raised an eyebrow to Gibbs before she replied over her shoulder: "Go ahead Williams, make my Christmas Day".

Williams swallowed hard before continuing. "Doc, we've found (and opened) another four freezers - and this time he's been collecting female USAF colonels!"

Terri's head sagged; she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and looked at Gibbs; "This guy must *really* dislike women! Well, I reckon that Tim McGee and his little box of tricks should be able to ID our next four discoveries if they are genuine USAF (or at least military) and not just modelling stolen uniforms. Then, we go wake up the Air Force on Christmas Day - agreed, Gibbs?"

Gibbs just grunted his agreement, then hollered "McGee, front and centre in the ten-freezer room".

Only 20 seconds passed before McGee skidded to a halt in the middle of the room. "Yes boss?"

"Downstairs, four more freezers (get them numbered #11 through #14 and labelled up), apparently with female Air Force contents so hook up with AFOSI; sketch, photograph and fingerprint until the Air Force gets back with disposition instructions. Now, I would reckon that the Air Force ladies will be travelling to Dover - does that seem sensible, Doctor Coulter-Rabb?"

Terri nodded: "Yes it does Gibbs. I'm going to have my hands full at the FBI with six civilians, whilst I know that Ducky normally only has three autopsy tables in what he calls his 'lair' over at NCIS. So yes, that disposition of our ladies downstairs seems sensible".

"Thanks Doc: OK McGee, label up the freezers between NCIS, FBI and AFOSI"

"On it, boss".

A thought occurred to Terri; "Agent Gibbs, I'm guessing that this place and even the freezers may offer clues and evidence as we struggle to identify the misogynistic arsehole responsible. I wonder is it worth chasing the manufacturers on Christmas Day?"

He chuckled: "A good idea, Doc and *no* - the records for ten-year-old freezers will - no pun intended - be in deep freeze at the manufacturers' various sites. Excavation of their records will probably be required and I reckon that can wait for the 27th, so let's not ruin anyone else's Christmas - yet."

He squared his shoulders: "OK, let's go down and examine some more bodies".

 **Tuesday 25th December 2001 - 16:06hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

"Rabb speaking; Hey gorgeous Tennessee Momma - thanks for the call and Merry Christmas afternoon".

"Hello Harm, how did the afternoon go?"

"It went very well darling: Ellie is having a nap and we wore out your Dad; he went home in a taxi about 15 minutes ago with a big smile on his face and enough cold cuts of meat to feed him and fill his freezer until the start of the new year. So, all is well here, Mommy. How's it looking?"

Across the miles from Georgetown, Harm could hear Terri sigh. "Pretty damn' horrific down here in Georgetown, I must admit Harm. We found four more - apparently USAF female colonels, based upon their uniforms - in the lower level. We are progressing slowly but surely; we are documenting as we go. However, this will take me longer; we are making progress but..." She paused, giving Harm the chance to comfort her over the phone.

"No problem Teresa - you always bring dignity and explanations to the dead and that is one of the reasons why I love you so much, why your colleagues speak highly of you and why I am so very proud of you, right back to that first case of Jimmy Blackhorse - where you got dragged away from a pleasant social event if I recall".

"What event - oh yes, Christopher's school play; wow, that worked out well for us, didn't it?" For a brief moment, Terri was flooded with "happy thoughts" before the reality of where she was standing came crashing back down again. She loved hearing her Tomcat's voice.

Harm continued: "Do you have any idea on a getting-home time yet?"

"No Tomcat, so you go ahead with the evening with Ellie and get her down on schedule; I am gonna be here into the night I reckon unless we agree a defrosting schedule and spread the work over some days (which, given the date today, is entirely possible)."

"OK, I love you Teresa; just come home safe because I love you and I need you along with our daughter".

Always, Tomcat".

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Tuesday 25th December 2001 - 22:48hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Terri trudged through the doorway of her home, lobbed her greatcoat over a chair and then slumped onto the settee in the lounge alongside Harm. Harm had lit a votive candle as darkness approached, and it was partway through its burn, safely contained in a tall glass tube. Terri recognised the significance of the candle and asked (as she settled on the settee and stretched her booted legs out onto the carpet): "so, is that candle for Alison and how special was she to you - if at all?"

Harm thought for a moment as he reached down, unzipped her boots then pulled her legs around onto his thighs as a prelude to a massage.

"Yes, it's for Alison; but no, she only chased me around the desk and dropped in, uninvited, to my apartment a few times until she mis-read Maria Elena's presence. The last time I saw her was when Diane was killed."

He paused; "The thing is, Terri, that must have been five and a half years ago; oh lord, what if she's been on ice since then - frozen, or held captive, with not one single person apparently caring or noticing that she was missing? That would be a hell (or a purgatory) for any sentient woman. No woman deserves to die in that way. God I am so glad to have you and Ellie in my life, darling Teresa; now relax your legs and let Mr Foot Massage get under way".

Harm reached across and picked up a tray bearing a towel, tissues and the bottle of massage oils. He began by removing her socks and stockings before he then started a gentle foot massage; within five minutes Terri was relaxing. She began to unburden her day.

"Oh Harm, it was horrible; four perfectly fit and healthy female naval officers in addition to the six civilians, slain like cattle and frozen until the fire happened. They were displayed in full Summer Whites uniforms from cover to shoes (although the stiletto shoes were a bit hinky) and frozen stiff with each woman locked separately in her personal freezer. I tell you Harm, it's mad - and I don't want to have to wait for next June when he kidnaps his fifth USN victim (who should be a brunette or dark-haired), so we have *got* to find him beforehand. Then, of course, we found the Air Force girls downstairs".

Harm thought through her points as he continued the foot massages. "Well, what if he didn't meet them in the late May, but captured their trust and romanced them over several months, before he sprang the trap on June first? That would give you background (on any new boyfriends) and a pattern (did their behaviour change over time?) when you start building a profile of each victim".

He tapped her feet and she crossed her legs so that he could work on the other foot as he continued their discussion. He asked another question.

"So what's the deal for you guys as the ME teams work together - leaving the civilians and the Air Force victims on ice whilst you concentrate on the Navy ladies with the NCIS ME? I guess that two heads are better than one each?"

"Well. I reckoned that, because Alison Krennick was (well, she had been in the past) your friend, she deserved a little bit of priority and Gibbs agreed readily as did Ducky. In fairness, it was a lottery as to which corpse we started on first, so I made a bid for Alison and no-one raised any objections. The Air Force ME teams are going to work on their four ladies down in Dover - starting tomorrow - in parallel to us and the USN girls, working one corpse at a time and we'll run regular update calls between the sites to co-ordinate findings and develop any theories as we work through the autopsies".

She gently wrapped her fingers around Harm's collar and pulled him closer. "Also, Ducky told me a lovely story from Britain. December 26th is called 'Boxing Day', because traditionally British families would box up their older presents and donate them to those who were less fortunate". She kissed Harm. "So from tomorrow, I shall be referring to December 26th as Boxing Day".

"Hmm, sounds good; so what will be your priority for this newly-named 'Boxing Day' and what will your workload be like?"

"Sadly, my darling Tomcat, I shall be busy doing FBI ME duty on these newly-discovered ladies".

"OK, that makes sense. So will you be doing that over at NCIS or in the FBI mortuary? I guess the Navy ladies will go to NCIS?"

"Yep, first thing tomorrow I shall be over at NCIS with Ducky Mallard. He's more experienced than me on the psychological autopsy; however he is of the view that he and I make a pretty formidable team. Now, _please_ don't stop doing that, Mr Massage Man". She arched her back at the sensuous touch of his fingers on her feet and began to purr.

"Your wish, dear lady is my command - and you can tell Ducky to keep his lecherous hands off my wife!".

"Harm, Ducky Mallard is far too much of a gentleman to make a pass at a married lady - and he *is* a little bit older than me! Oh _God_ *yes*, just there!". Harm was amused to hear his wife's satisfied purring getting steadily louder.

"Well, whilst you are working with Ducky, I shall have a Boxing Day clean of our home; I shall polish anything I can find and will press any uniforms that I come across."

"Oh good thinking Tomcat: some of my shoes and boots need a bit of TLC - and polish would help keep them waterproof. I am so lucky being married to a military man who understands polishing." She looked down at her discarded boots on the floor and smiled apologetically at Harm: "Oh, sorry but I trod in a puddle in the dark of that darned warehouse today". Harm just sighed theatrically and kept on massaging her feet. Wow, this husband of hers was just so darn _good_ with his fingers!

Some considerable time later (and significantly relaxed from the tense, hunched ME who had walked through the door of her home to a loving husband and a massage), Terri nibbled some food, swallowed a glass of milk and headed for their bed.

That night, her sleep was punctuated by some seriously disturbed dreams; she had seen too much that day for one person (even a battle-hardened FBI ME with naval experience) to process quickly. She realised that the sheer hatred and contempt which the UNSub had displayed towards his victims was simply not understandable to any rational, sane person.

She kept being pursued in her dreams by Alison Krennick who marched after her, with dead eyes frozen wide open and arms outstretched like some smartly-uniformed zombie, stiletto heels rapping out a fast-pace cadence as she pursued Terri down the endless black featureless corridors of her dreamscape.

Terri awoke several times and eventually left the bed (for fear of disturbing Harm).

She wandered into Ellie's room where, sitting in the little feeding rocking chair, she finally fell asleep listening to the steady, innocent and undisturbed breathing of her child. With Terri settled in the company of her daughter, Krennick's apparently wilful spirit stayed away for the rest of the night.

Not surprisingly, it was a grumpy Teresa Coulter-Rabb who woke up the next morning to greet what should have been celebrated as Boxing Day. She was short on sleep and with a stiff neck - simply unready for face the world and what it would demand of her this day.

But duty called - and she had an obligation to speak for the dead. This meant that - just as she had done on her second case with Harm (the Annie Lewis murder case back in '99) - she would give of her very best. She would, as always, speak for these unfortunate victims who could not speak for themselves.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Wednesday 26th December 2001 - 08:53hrs EST (Terri applies her forensic skills)**

 **Main Reception CP, NCIS HQ, Washington DC**

"Happy Boxing Day and good morning Doctor Coulter-Rabb".

"Morning Gibbs; oh, I have a present for you".

Terri handed over her weapon and her USNR credentials to the guard and picked up her NCIS Visitor badge, which she pinned alongside her FBI credentials onto the lapels of her coat. Passing through the large metal detectors (a sad but necessary response to what America was beginning to refer to as "9/11"), she handed Gibbs a disposable cup from one of the local coffee houses.

"Marine grade, I am assured by the barista who looks like he only recently retired the buzz-cut", she smiled.

Gibbs took a sip and nodded appreciatively as he looked at the label. "Hmm, good coffee from my favourite local coffee shop - and you called the man correctly, doc." Taking a further sip, Gibbs switched into "formal NCIS agent" mode. "Thank you, doctor, for coming in and disrupting your family Christmas; I am grateful, because we are a day closer to giving explanations and closure to the families of our four naval ladies".

Gibbs guided Terri down the corridor to the bull-pen, where four Naval ID photographs stared out into the room on the plasma - four women who would never again feel the warmth of the sun on their faces, nor see the beauty in the sky.

All four were frozen at the moment of the photograph. Terri looked particularly closely at the service photograph of Alison Krennick, trying to imagine the woman, alive, chasing the man who was now her husband around a desk in "happier" times during the last century.

Tim McGee stood by his desk, plasma control clicker in his hand. He smiled a welcome at Terri, who kept her hat and coat on, in anticipation of a trip down to the mortuary.

"OK, McGee, whatcha got and where is Ducky?" Gibbs yielded the floor to Tim McGee. "Ducky" Mallard's face appeared in a small window in the corner of the screen - he was linked in by VC from his basement mortuary.

"Morning Doctor Coulter-Rabb; Ok, we have Ford, Krennick, Winchester and Barcroft - in that order of disappearance in '94 then '96 then '98 and 2000; the sequence is brunette then blonde then brunette then blonde. Heights vary - apparently random".

Terri momentarily thought to herself " _Glad I'm a natural blonde - I would hate to be a brunette in 2002_ " but dismissed the thought as disrespectful to her customers. She lobbed in a question of her own: "OK, NCIS, what have you heard from AFOSI on the four Air Force ladies that we found?"

"They were all genuine USAF officers – colonels - and they have been identified so we have names and locations; they were based around CONUS. All were single or unmarried and all were listed as UA within a day or two of June 1st in '95, '97, '99 and '01 - so he was still active earlier this year. Hair colours match our sequence - started with a brunette, then he took a blonde, then brunette, then a blonde just like our Navy ladies here with Ducky downstairs. Looks like he started with the Navy back in '94" observed Tim.

"Hmm, or she did?" Terri was hypothesising as she went along. "The UNSub could be a female - she gets under their defences with some plausible cover story and gains their confidence more easily, snuggles ( _OR SLITHERS_ ) inside their safety zone and then - BLAM, they're gone from the face of the earth! How long before our Navy ladies were noticed as missing - anything in the reports to raise our interest?"

"Actually, they were reported UA mostly on the same day every year, but Commander Barcroft wasn't spotted as UA until her neighbours heard the distressed wailing of a hungry cat in her condo." Tim paged through the reports on his laptop. "Nothing jumps out at me from the reports, doc".

Gibbs chipped in: "So eight years at least, '94 through to this year without missing a beat, all around June 1st, one woman every year from the military, plus six more females whom we are assuming to be civilian at present, on an unknown timeline; what's the significance?"

"We also need to ID the apparently-civilian females - he or she might have started slaying civilians up to '93, then graduated to hunting military women because it presented a ' _harder target_ ' or more difficult challenge - we simply don't know yet, nor why he limited himself to USN and USAF women and targeted civilians in parallel".

At this, McGee looked quizzical; Gibbs leaned in for a gentle head-slap, which McGee accepted without question - to Terri's considerable amusement. "No Boss, that wasn't it; I am wondering why he didn't go for Army, Marines - or even the Coast Guard?"

"Ya think, McGee?"

"Well - unless we haven't found his other lair for green-uniformed women yet, boss" McGee countered.

Terri smiled encouragingly at the junior NCIS agent. "Agent McGee, that is good, original, parallel thinking - just what we are seeking - well done. Gibbs, might I suggest your IT wizard here starts looking at property records for the building - if all else fails, ' _follow the money_ '". Terri felt that it was time to encourage the junior NCIS agent; Gibbs nodded his appreciation and grunted. McGee smiled proudly, paying attention to Terri. They were all beginning to bounce ideas off each other - the tempo of the meeting was rising.

"We're already on it, doc: the building was last registered in '93 and the electricity supply had been hot-wired. The current landowner is in Seattle, Washington; they picked it up at auction after a bankruptcy and had then simply sat on it until the re-zoning and gentrification project kicks off at some future date yet to be determined. Because it is in the centre of the block, it gives a property company some leverage when negotiations start. I've emailed the local NCIS office in the Puget Sound shipyard to make a visit and dig through records, but frankly I am not optimistic of getting useful data - it's just been sitting there, according to the records, apparently empty and unloved since '93. Reading between the lines, I don't reckon that anyone from Seattle has set foot in the building since the auction back in '93". McGee finished his update.

Terri patted McGee's arm gently. "Thanks - Tim isn't it? Well, I guess no-one would notice someone dropping off a body every year, would they? OK, so why the hair colours? What does that signify? Terri walked closer to the screen, peering at the ID photographs. "Can we pull up the Airforce ladies as well; why did he go for blondes and brunettes only" she mused. "Why no red-heads?" she asked; Gibbs chuckled quietly in the background and she spun around to look quizzically at him. His face straightened and he raised a hand, in a "sorry" gesture, in her direction.

Tim McGee leaned in and whispered "Serial husband of red-headed Gibbs wives, doc" quietly in her ear.

Terri smiled and gently nodded her acknowledgement of that piece of intel on " _stone-face_ " Gibbs. "Yes and why concentrate on single (or at least visibly unmarried) women?" Terri thought that one through for a moment, her fingers playing with her wedding and engagement rings. At that point, Ducky Mallard piped up from the video screen. "Actually Dr Coulter-Rabb, we made a discovery as the hands were thawed out, once we lifted the ladies onto the exam tables (we have added a fourth table down here now, so it is a little crowded); each woman was wearing a plain gold wedding band on the ring finger of her left hand".

"Oh yuk" was Terri's instant response; "OK, is that mirrored with AFOSI? I'll get Williams to check the corpses in FBI storage. What *WAS* this sick SoB playing at – surely all these women were single?"

Ducky picked up immediately, thinking through the psychology of the crime; "Well, it could signify ownership; keeping these women speaks to a desire for a family..."

He paused as Terri laughed softly: "Trust me Dr Mallard - he'd get *way* further with me using wine, chocolates, flowers, soft lighting, a killer smile and a great personality - without doubt - and that is before we open negotiations about clothing, comfortable shoes - and jewellery!"

As the general laughter in the room subsided, Ducky looked troubled: "And the final item - personality - could be the key here. My dear colleagues, this debate has been fascinating and most insightful - I am glad that we have been able to bring our skills and knowledge together".

Gibbs joined Terri alongside the plasma screen. Eight blank faces now looked out at him - the "Air Force ladies" (as Terri had christened them) had joined the display of the USN victims.

"OK, so as expected we have more questions than answers at this stage of our investigation. Hmm, I'd suggest that, perhaps, a single woman would disappear with less of a ripple - or maybe without creating any ripples in the pool of life - than a married woman with a husband and a couple of kids. Remember that some married women don't wear their wedding bands for operational reasons, but he's managed to home in on, then pick, eight singletons. That surely cannot be a coincidence".

"Rule 39, Boss?" enquired McGee; Gibbs nodded.

Terri picked up on the play between the two NCIS agents. "OK, I'll have to ask as the non-NCIS girl present! What's this Rule 39?" Terri looked at Gibbs for illumination and enlightenment.

He smiled: "The rules which I teach my agents; Rule 39 means ' _there is no such thing as coincidence_ ' and I reckon that this applies; whaddya say, Duckman?".

On the screen, Ducky Mallard leaned into the screen: "I would say that we have examined the circumstantial evidence and now we should look at the physical evidence - I believe that it is time to squint through a magnifying glass. My dear Dr Coulter-Rabb, may I invite you down to join me in my basement lair? I am sure that young Timothy would be honoured to guide you down".

"Sure thing - see you shortly I guess; please lead on, Tim".

Three minutes later, Terri stepped in to the mortuary; Ducky met her, shook hands and directed her to the coat-stand and then the changing room. She turned to McGee. "Tim, may I please ask a favour? I wonder if you could get me an NCIS or other long, warm sweatshirt, because I am in the fourth month of my pregnancy and I need to keep my little passenger warm. I suspect that I shall be here in Dr Mallard's chilly lair for quite some time". She smiled, making her request for a sweat-shirt seem even less like the order which, in fact, it had been.

Tim smiled; he had, until now, only seen Terri wrapped up in her coat, at the crime scene and in the bull-pen upstairs. "No problem Dr Coulter-Rabb - and congratulations on the pregnancy; I shall attend to the sweatshirt request personally and at once, whilst you change". Tim backed out of the mortuary and headed for the elevator.

By the time that Terri had removed her coat, scarf, sweater, skirt, bra, boots and socks, pulled on a set of scrubs and stepped into a set of clogs, McGee was back; Terri stepped back into the changing room and slipped on the sweatshirt beneath her scrubs. Instantly, she felt her core temperature move upwards - three minutes of wearing chilled scrubs against her unclad body had made her feel uncomfortable; she was beginning to regret removing her bra, but didn't want the added complication, at day's end, of heading back home with "biologicals" (as the Brits so charmingly described such materials) splashed on any part of her outdoor clothing if they had splattered through her scrubs.

She had already checked out Ducky's shower with its basic set of (male) toiletries. Dry towels were helpfully located in a small, warm, airing cupboard within reach of the shower stall. The NCIS mortuary had, evidently, been set up to accommodate those medics who were working shift-to-shift on long-running examinations. She spotted a shower cap to protect her hair, then nodded her approval at the arrangements and re-entered the chill of the main mortuary.

Ducky stood at the head of the first (or four) examination tables.

"Here we have our first lady (1994): USN Commander Louise Ford- DoB March 1958, 5'6"; reported UA Thursday June 2nd 1994: brunette".

As he removed the covering cloth, Terri felt a shudder move through her: Commander Ford had been visibly pregnant at the time of her final demise. She looked at Ducky; in response, he walked down the line of tables and gently peeled back the white sheet which was covering each of the other three female Navy Commanders; he placed the sheet across the groin area of each woman, exposing her upper torso whilst leaving the groin and legs covered to protect the dead woman's modesty. Terri gasped - the similarity in each corpse was unmistakable.

Terri surveyed the scene; Louise Ford, Alison Krennick, Suzanne Winchester and Amanda Barcroft had all been - to Terri's trained eye - around five or six months pregnant when they had been killed. Which meant that the murder count had just doubled. She mused - for a moment - as to how Harm would react to the sight of a visibly-pregnant Allison Krennick wearing a wedding ring - then dismissed the thought; her Tomcat only needed one woman for the rest of his life - and *she* already wore his wedding band along with the Rabb family female legacy ring when she hugged him and their children (born and, at this stage, unborn).

In that moment, Terri decided that Harm would only receive a heavily-redacted report about her case from her in the evenings.

Ducky was working on Louise Ford's corpse - he believed in giving his customers the respect of being addressed by name. Terri instantly saw the logic of this courtesy - and she joined in as she approached the table after changing into her scrubbs.

"Hello Louise, I am Terri Coulter-Rabb of the FBI (I am also a Commander in the USN Navy Reserves) and I am honoured to be making your acquaintance, despite these circumstances". Across the table, Ducky nodded approvingly - he was going to get on just fine with this younger expert pathologist - her care and consideration in speaking to the corpses was a major positive mark from his point of view. Terri carried on: "Louise, I intend to find out who killed you and the baby inside you..."

Her voice tailed off as Ducky's hands measured across the swollen abdomen of Louise Ford's corpse. Suddenly, Ducky looked puzzled.

"Doctor Coulter-Rabb?" Ducky's tone was questioning as he picked up a magnifying glass.

"Oh Ducky, please call me Terri, if I may address you as Ducky?".

"With pleasure. Terri, looking at this abdomen, I believe that young Louise here is carrying (excuse me, *was* carrying) twins".

Terri checked Ducky's approximations and was forced to agree. If Ducky's suspicions were correct, the death count in the mortuary had just increased by 50%. An x-ray examination was arranged - the sad layout of the skeletons on the x-ray picture left no doubt. Terri found herself rubbing her waistline, thinking of the new life growing within her. She snapped back into her "pathologist" mode.

"Gestational development progression?"

"Somewhere around five to six months, I would reckon. I think that all four of our ladies are carrying twins. OK, let's check with AFOSI and determine whether the USAF ladies were also pregnant with twins; because, if so, we are looking at something seriously weird here".

An hour later, the x-ray evidence was conclusive - Louise, Alison, Suzanne and Amanda had all been pregnant with twins, at the five to six month stage of pregnancy, when they had met their deaths. Standing at the light-box and looking at four x-ray plates which signified twelve deaths, Terri frowned in concentration.

"I concur about the gestational duration. Dear God Ducky, what the hell did he do with them?"

"I don't know yet Terri, but I swear that I shall do my best to get to the truth, so that, *WHEN* the legal process catches up with the person responsible, the jury will only need to take the time to drink one cup of coffee each in the Jury Summoning Room before they hand down a unanimous guilty verdict.".

"OK, lets' wash the bodies and start examining the natural skin". Terri picked up the magnifying glass.

Removing the outer uniforms had revealed that the uniforms had been buttoned up at the front (and actually neatly stitched closed, Terri noticed) then slit down the back seam before being threaded over the corpse in each case, with a gap at the back (out of sight when the bodies had first been discovered in their individual freezers); this meant that their pre-pregnancy uniforms had been used. But were they all kidnapped in uniform? This was a point to pass to Gibbs for further investigation.

Washing the bodies revealed several worrying sets of evidence - deep rusty marks around the necks, wrists and ankles of each woman, once the clothing, underwear and hosiery had been removed. This also revealed numbers carved in the soles of each woman's left foot - "N1" through to "N4", working from Louise through to Amanda.

"How the hell were these women restrained?" Terri wondered, speaking out aloud as she pulled on a fresh set of forensic gloves and examined Alison Krennick's wrist.

The irony of the woman being found wearing a wedding ring (following Harm's description of Krennick's cougar-like antics when she had been out " _on the hunt_ ") amused Terri - she felt that Alison would have done *anything* rather than be seen as someone's committed, loyal - and above all, monogamously faithful - wife.

A grim-faced Ducky provided the answer as he thought through the psychology of the situation. "They were shackled and collared - he would control them completely; these women could have been confined in a large cell with no hope of escape; the needle marks on their elbows imply that he drugged them, either to keep them docile or to have them unconscious when he impregnated them - and *that* would take a significant element of timing, to catch each woman at her fertile peak. The UNSub would need to understand endocrinology and female physiology - and has probably been improving his technique as the years have gone by. Additionally, he would need a lair - somewhere isolated, sealed, soundproofed and completely secure; that warehouse wouldn't fit every criterion, but he obviously felt comfortable stashing his victims there after he had committed the final insult to each of them, bringing their torment to an end".

"OK Ducky - so we need blood work from all of them to identify what compounds are floating around in their blood streams - this may help us identify how he controlled them - and maybe where he purchased the drugs. Most of the drugs I can think of in this category are not OTC- you would need a prescription, and long-term supply would be easier to spot. Then, how did he impregnate them - where did the eggs and sperm come from?".

Terri shivered. The right to choose who fathered her children - and when and how - was a woman's basic human right; what the heck had these poor women gone through and how low had this UNSub sunk?

A phone call to the Air Force ME team confirmed four sets of twins inside the four USAF corpses. Terri and Ducky nodded at each other in triumph - they had a pattern. The USAF women also had numbers "A1", "A2", "A3" and - worryingly - "A5" carved into the left feet of the Air Force ladies, again in the sequence of their disappearance.

"I don't get it - why impregnate a woman, let her carry the twins more than halfway to term and then kill her? This is just cruel, cruel, cruel" lamented Ducky. Terri had to agree with him.

Within a few hours, the source of the eggs was confirmed based upon tissue typing; DNA testing confirmed absolutely some hours after that. There was no doubt that Louise Ford's own eggs had been used to conceive her twins - probably extracted from her stimulated ovaries, fertilised in-vitro then re-implanted into her to settle and grow. This was truly cold-blooded.

"OK, let's get a DNA profile for the male contributor".

"And I'll start extracting DNA from the other three women in here - let's update the USAF ME and get the extractions running on their four victims. We should have more evidence by morning, so let's book a VC in MTAC for 0930 tomorrow, the 27th. Terri, might we meet around 0900hrs tomorrow? We can compare any thoughts from overnight as we enjoy our first coffees. I also want the USAF ME to check for needle marks above the ovaries if they did a polycystic extraction - if you look here on Louise's belly, you can see the needle marks; so add an ultrasound kit to the list of what our UNSub would need to hit the ovaries cleanly every time he ran an eggstraction".

As she chuckled at the humorous mispronunciation, Terri frowned. "MTAC, Ducky?".

"Ah yes, sorry my dear - that is our Multiple Threat Assessment Centre here upstairs in NCIS; we can communicate - securely - anywhere in the world. I shall book the system for a one-hour slot, starting at a time which is mutually convenient for our counterparts in the USAF".

"OK Ducky; that sounds like a plan. I am going to assume that the USAF will put their top man (or woman) on the case?"

"Oh yes: if it is the person whom I expect to be assigned, there is none finer in the ranks of the USAF" He stood straight and looked at her. "And now, to our homes, I think; would you care to shower and dress first, whilst I finish my notes at the table over there?"

Yes please Ducky; I need to warm up and clean up. Then I just want to get home to Harm and Ellie - and I would *really* like to put my feet up for a while - these clogs are not the panacea that I hoped they would be!"

"My dear Terri; that definitely concludes our business today - you are going home to your husband and daughter, plus as a pregnant momma you need some R&R for the rest of the day. I also must get home to Mother before she starts trying to feed the corgi dogs in preference to herself. You know where everything is in the changing rooms, I presume, from this morning?"

"Yes thank you Ducky". she paused and looked at him. "You seem at ease with the idea of children and motherhood; do you have children?"

As Terri asked the question, she could see Mallard's face falling into a brief hint of sadness. Then he brightened: "Unfortunately Terri, I have never had the privilege of marriage or fatherhood (my one-and-only 'soul-mate' decide to marry my best friend back in the days of my youth), but I *did* donate sperm as a medical student and I know that there were five live births - three girls and two boys".

He sighed deeply, long-forgotten memories bubbling to the surface. "But marriage itself? Sadly no; after Maggie got married to Angus, the 'wife and family' motif never happened for me. As a lesson, look at what happened to Gibbs after he lost *his* soulmate, wrecking his life by repeatedly marrying the wrong woman over and over; so I abandoned a career in obstetrics and dragged my medical kit around the military and humanitarian hot-spots of the planet for the next few decades".

Terri walked over and hugged the elder ME, kissing him warmly on the cheek. "Well Ducky, I reckon that the potential mothers of this world have been robbed by your dedication to helping the human race. You must tell me about Gibbs and his soul-mate sometime - but not today because I need to get home. Maybe it would be time to seek out your offspring - how would you feel about offering up DNA matching on one of the adoption tracing websites that have sprung up around the Web?"

"Hmm, I have pondered this previously, but then I decided that I shall wait until Mother has passed on: in her present state, she would have problems grasping the theory of my having offspring who are not - technically - her grand-children. However, thank you Terri for the idea and the encouragement; your advice will be followed, just not today".

"Fair enough Ducky - but I am certain that all the dead people who have passed through your 'office' have benefited from your care and your determination to find out the maximum amount of information so that their killers can be brought to justice. If anything were to happen to me, I would hope for a 'Ducky Mallard' to carry out the autopsy on me and help to chase down the culprit".

"Indeed Terri and the feeling is mutual; your record in Memphis and your recent cases here in DC (especially the work on the Annie Lewis case) are held in very high regard by your peers. In the unlikely - dear God, I hope *very* unlikely - event that something were to happen to you, it would be my pleasure to seek out and define the perpetrator. But obviously Terri, I sincerely hope that one would never be in that situation".

"Thank you Ducky - and our ladies here deserve the same".

The two MEs hugged once more, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Thank you, Terri".

"My pleasure Ducky; now let me get showered then changed into my civvies and I'll be away home".

Fifteen minutes later, Terri was showered, dried, fully dressed and ready to head home. With her _uschanka_ in her hand (ready to perch on her head as she left the building) she bade a final farewell to Ducky as he steadily wrote up his findings at his table, with a small glass of Scotch whisky at his side.

"Goodnight, Ducky. See you here in the morning".

"Goodnight, Terri. I shall arrange coffee to welcome you down here".

 **Wednesday 26th December 2001 - 19:37hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Terri arrived home to find that Harm, pre-warned by her call, had kept Ellie up and entertained until Mommy came home from "the wars". Terri hugged her daughter gratefully and then slumped, still fully clothed, on the sofa.

"Thanks Tomcat, I needed my family after today - obviously I shall update you on today's discoveries after this little lady's bedtime".

"Understood, darling". Harm kissed her cheek gently, then folded a supporting arm around each of his two ladies.

Half an hour later, Ellie had been settled into her bed and the Coulter-Rabb parents settled on the sofa Terri had removed her outer clothing and was curled up on the sofa.

She took Harm's hand and kissed it, then looked up into his eyes, tears forming as she knew what she had to tell her husband about his dead friend.

"OK Harm, here's what I know so far; your friend Alison Krennick is confirmed as a casualty. By the way, she was an attractive woman - as were all of the victims. But Harm, there is so much more: they were all purposefully impregnated, each being allowed to carry her twin babies for five or six months then just...…"

 **Much later, a horrified Harmon Rabb held his pregnant wife very close and offered up a prayer for Alison Krennick's soul. He was certain that, no matter how annoying she might have been during her life, no-one deserved to die in the manner which had been visited upon Cdr Alison Krennick and her fellow taken female commanders.**

 **Thursday 27th December 2001 - 09:30hrs EST**

 **NCIS Multiple Threat Assessment Centre (MTAC), NCIS HQ, Washington DC**

"Good Morning Doctor Coulter-Rabb and Dr Mallard; compliments from the USAF Medical Identification Centre; how are things in DC?"

"Good morning General Straker; it is a sad reason for us to be in conference two days after Christmas, but we have a sacred duty - we have eight ladies (plus the six civilian victims) whose families need answers. We also have Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs from NCIS with us here today in MTAC - he will be on point (and liaising with AFOSI) as this investigations move from pathology into detection and - I pray - apprehension of the UNSub. All is otherwise fine here in DC - how are things looking in Dover?"

"Pretty good; let's summarise. Each of our four ladies was around five or six months pregnant, with twins conceived from her own eggs and fertilised with sperm from the same male donor - we sent the samples to you overnight and I can confirm that our lab tech here in Dover has received the samples which *you* sent across to us last night for a cross-check".

"Yes, we received yours overnight here in DC. So far, a basic serology test by our overnight lab teams indicate that all eight sets of twins have the same father - a DNA profile for this offender should follow by lunchtime".

"Damn, I was still hoping for a different outcome". Across the video feed, Brigadier General Eileen Straker, USAF MD, dropped her head for a moment, then looked up at the camera once more. "I want this bastard's balls for this. As a woman I am offended, as a military officer I am damned angry; as a military leader this is a terrible waste of senior female officers whom my country has trained and invested heavily in; they are (hell, they would have been) the leadership cadre for the 2010s and beyond. If this bastard is a foreigner, I want to declare war - even if he's a Canadian!"

"Well, my dear General, that may be slightly premature; I remember in Australia many years ago..."

Terri placed a gentle, restraining hand on Ducky's arm, interrupting his reminiscences: "Focus please Ducky".

In the background Gibbs chuckled to himself: this newly-arrived USNR/FBI ME had obviously got the measure of Ducky Mallard in very short order; he was looking forward to the enjoyment of continuing working with Doctor Teresa Coulter-Rabb. Plus, she was married to a USN officer - so she evidently had good taste. It was, Gibbs mused, a shame that the guy was a JAG but heck, you don't always get everything that you want in life - look at his suddenly-curtailed joy with Shannon and Kelly back in 1991.

Meanwhile, Ducky landed back on Planet Earth. "Eh? Oh, sorry Teresa, I digressed."

"Yes you did, and that *will* come later when we celebrate throwing away the key when this bastard goes down for these murders". Terri smiled to soften the blow; this might be the only laughter that they would have all day. Across the vid screen, Straker smiled at the interplay between her new-found colleagues in DC.

Terri gestured to the Comms tech to start the MTAC data links. For the next hour, USN and USAF teams swapped information, compared notes and identified points of similarity (with many points where the data was identical).

By the end of the session, the conclusion was clear; eight military women had been kidnapped; their ovaries had been accessed and their eggs had been taken and then fertilised with sperm from the same man in all cases; then their eggs had been re-implanted into the women in perfect time for conception to occur. After that, the eight pregnant captive military mothers - with their sixteen foetuses - had been kept alive, in good health with good pregnancy care, then slain as the foetuses reached the 5th or 6th month of gestation within their mothers. Their mothers had been chained (with no hope of escape) and repeatedly injected, but had been kept well-nourished.

The NCIS and AFOSI lab techs were still tearing their hair out, trying to identify the complex chemical cocktail which was still sloshing around inside the bodies of the women (all of which had been thawed and were now being kept in the chiller drawers of the mortuaries in NCIS in DC and the Armed Forces Medical Examiner System (AFMES) centre in Dover AFB in Delaware). In parallel, Terri had arranged for the FBI mortuary to keep the apparently "civilian" victims on ice (she had smiled and said openly " _no pun deliberately intended_ " as she had issued the orders to the FBI mortuary team).

The biggest remaining question was "why" - which, everyone hoped, would lead to the ultimate question - "who?" A side-trip into "when exactly?" would be an added (and welcome) bonus for the conviction of this psychopath/sociopath, she realised.

"OK folks, let's get back to the labs; Same time tomorrow, everyone?"

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Thursday 27th December 2001 - 19:11hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Terri unlocked the front door; Harm had heard her car arriving in the garage and was ready to welcome her, with Ellie alongside him to welcome her mommy back home. He took her coat and hung it in the closet, pointing out the laid-out slippers in the carpet of the hallway; she nodded gratefully and bent down to unzip her boots and pull off her socks and stockings. She luxuriated for a second in the warmth of the under-floor heating in the hallway, then slid her feet into the slippers. She wandered slowly into the kitchen, picking up a gleeful Ellie and hugging her close before settling her daughter into her chair around the breakfast bar. Her rumbling stomach suddenly reminder her that not only was she by now quite hungry, but she was eating for two. Harm smiled at her and began serving one of his home-cooked special meals.

After dinner, she took Ellie up and settled her daughter into her bed to read her a bed-time story. Returning to the kitchen, she reached out a hand to Harm as he carried two mugs of freshly-brewed coffee towards the lounge.

"Stay here Harm, please - I need to talk".

Once she had met (and bedded) Harmon Rabb junior, Teresa had realised that the concept of "compartmentalisation" only goes so far. This meant that she could talk about the day, unlike her solo days in Memphis when she sometimes felt that she just went "back into her box" at the end of each working day. Teresa was grateful, in so many ways, for being dragged out to " _Butthole Arizona_ " (she *was* joking, she smiled to herself) on that fateful Jimmy Blackhorse mission almost four years earlier.

Harm nodded, brought the coffees across to the breakfast bar then, taking Terri's hand, settled on the stool alongside her and looked expectantly into her eyes.

"Harm, I am conscious that, if NCIS and AFOSI are lucky and do their jobs right and the UNSub screws up somewhere, you may be prosecuting this bastard. But I need to give you some details, even though I am constrained by what I can say, because I need to talk through the sheer unremitting awfulness of the past three days, simply for my own sanity. So please bear with me darling - OK?"

Harm flashed her his trademark "Flyboy" smile, then leaned in and kissed his pregnant wife once more. "Yes sure, Terri, off you go; but do we need to schedule you for a session with Vera McCool or one of her colleagues over at Bethesda for a professional session (or sessions) once this is over?".

"You know, Harm, that might be a brilliant idea; please remind me when we've got this case onto a legal docket please". She kissed him again, before she continued her story.

"Now then, on Christmas morning I arrived at the old warehouse...…."

In all, they talked for over an hour before deciding to head straight to bed.

That night, Alison Krennick, with her dead eyes and killer heels, stayed away from Terri's dreams. She slept soundly, tightly spooned with her husband and cushioning her growing baby, right through until the morning alarm clock.

 **Friday 28th December 2001 - 08:53hrs EST**

 **Main Reception, NCIS HQ, Washington DC**

"Morning Doctor Coulter-Rabb".

Terri handed over her weapon after proving it safe, along with her USNR credentials;

"Good morning, Master Sergeant - another day as a visitor to your fine establishment".

"Indeed doctor, I took the liberty of telephoning Agent Gibbs as I saw you start up the footpath".

"Why thank you, Master Sergeant - with the autopsies again today, that lightens my load slightly and I appreciate the courtesy on what will be another busy day down in Autopsy".

The Marine guard handed across her NCIS Visitor badge, which she pinned alongside her FBI credentials onto the lapels of her coat as she prepared to walk through the metal detectors.

"Good morning Terri"; Ducky Mallard had arrived just behind Terri.

"Hey Ducky; the Master Sergeant here was just telling me that he has told Gibbs that I was arriving".

The familiar voice boomed out from behind: "Indeed he did; welcome Dr Coulter-Rabb; morning Ducky; thank you Master Sergeant";

"Hello Gibbs; another day in paradise, then?" Terri handed Gibbs his "Marine-strength" coffee, which he acknowledged with a smile.

"Indeed, Doctor. Shall we...?"

The three investigators walked along the corridors and then descended into the basement mortuary, where they would be working until they headed upstairs to MTAC for the VC with Straker later in the morning.

"Duckman, how is the psychological autopsy going? I forgot to ask yesterday". Terri had adopted DiNozzo's affectionate form of address for the older ME.

"Actually Terri, it has gone well; I would like to bounce my ideas off you as we start on our first coffee of this morning".

"Sounds good to me; shall I change whilst you get the coffee brewing?"

Like all forces personnel, who regularly change station or pitch up in unfamiliar surroundings and need to get productive quickly, Terri and Ducky had rapidly fallen into an easy way of communicating and a comfortable way of working. This worked well for their interactions with Gibbs, the former Marine Gunnery Sergeant.

They gathered around Ducky's little table to review the bulky files of evidence; within five minutes, by mutual agreement, the three of them had agreed to move upstairs to a warmer conference centre with its larger tables. Terri and Ducky kept their scrubs on as they migrated to the warmer working environment.

The autopsy work would continue across the weekend, wrapping up on the Monday of New Year's Eve with a complete set of files for the prosecution team, listing all the eight military victims. Now, all they needed was a suspect!

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 12 - Part 21 - "Birthday".**

 **Tuesday 1st January 2002 - 15:59hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

New Years Day of 2002 also saw the third birthday of Ellen Coulter-Rabb.

Harm and Terri had stayed up to welcome in the New Year and then retired by around 00:30hrs; Ellie was beginning to understand the idea of New Year (and, more importantly, the idea behind the statement that " _Mommy and Daddy want a lie-in in the morning_ " - which normally meant that she went to bed with extra juice and cookies, ready for an impromptu early breakfast snack if she wanted food when she woke up before she heard her parents moving the next morning! The plan had worked well; Terri and Harm had awoken around 08:20hrs and the family had enjoyed a leisurely breakfast around 10:00hrs.

Harm hugged Terri in his arms as she stood in the kitchen, admiring their daughter. She looked up at him. "Hey, Tomcat, do you remember what Caroline said as she delivered Ellie?"

"No, sorry darling, I was in a combination of shock and ecstasy at that point" Harm replied honestly. Terri turned around and snuggled into his chest: "well, as I recall, it was:"

 **"OK, you have a lovely girl as expected, 6lbs 3oz; birth time 23:53hrs, Friday 1st January 1999; Happy New Year everyone!"**

"And now, three years later, we have the neighbourhood kids plus the kids from the FBI day nursery coming over at 3pm on another New Year's Day. What a difference three years can make!"

"I love you, Teresa".

"Oh and I love you too, Tomcat!"

They hugged once more, then set about policing the kitchen and setting up the lounge and dining room for the upcoming kiddies' party.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **After the New Year vacation, Terri returned to the FBI headquarters building to begin the FBI contribution of the " _Motherhood Killer_ " (in advance of a formal assignment of an identifier). The entire case would officially be led by the FBI in collaboration with NCIS and AFOSI because of the presence of civilian victims as well as the fact that victims were taken from different states in CONUS and were found in the geographical area of DC. **

**Terri was clear, in opening every meeting and teleconference and VC, that this was a collaborative project: " _We speak for all victims equally - never forget that principle in your individual endeavours_ " was her catchphrase at the end of every meeting.**

Investigations and analysis would continue well into the early part of 2002 as the Task Force went back - one more time - over every piece of evidence. Having learned all that she could from the bodies of the four USN victims, Terri concentrated in her lab in the FBI mortuary and began work on defrosting the other victims, one-by-one, examining each of the six civilian corpses and steadily building the body of evidence about the UNSub (whom the investigators were now referring to as "UNSub94" in light of the year of his first - known so far - military kill), in the hope that one day a conviction would be possible.

Given the importance of the case and the need for an almost obsessively-clinical attention to detail in building the charges, Admiral Chegwidden had brought in the recently-promoted Cdr Faith Coleman TAD from San Diego. Terri took a while to get accustomed to working with Coleman, her " _OCD briefcase from hell_ " and the woman's - unusual and apparently painless - pose of sitting with every joint in her body (elbows, hips, knees) at a perfect 90-degree angle.

Terri had to admit however that Faith Coleman succeeded in making the female US Navy officer's uniform look sexy - perfect posture, gleaming buttons, gleaming shoes, every badge and medal ribbon perfectly aligned and not a hair out of place in the "bun". Only rarely, however, did a smile disrupt the pursed lips.

Every morning, Terri looked over at Faith as she opened her briefcase and prepared her pencils for the day. Never - ever - did Terri see a hair out of place. Terri had joked to Harm that she sometimes half-expected to see Faith plug herself into the electricity mains and switch off into " _standby Android_ " mode at the end of the day, but she had seen Faith unwind - slightly - during social events which were organised regularly for the benefit of the sanity of the Task Force members as they built the case against "UNSub94".

All of the investigators involved in this horrific case were very clear of the need to unwind regularly and to talk about any stresses or concerns that the case caused them - it was important to decompress and Faith's exposure to the minutiae of the case files was likely to increase the stress upon her.

This Coleman woman was odd; but she was a hell of a knowledgeable and detailed lawyer; and *that* was exactly what Terri needed to nail this UNSub at the prosecution, trial and conviction stage.

It was estimated that the investigation into the **" _Motherhood Killer_ "** would take around five to six weeks.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 11th February 2002 - 15:53hrs EST**

 **NCIS Multiple Threat Assessment Centre (MTAC), NCIS HQ, Washington DC**

The final case conference in the first week of February 2002 had loaded all the information into the case management systems; the DNA profile was loaded into NCIS and AFOSI databases, VICAP and the national criminal DNA database.

The Monday afternoon conference was convened to conduct a final review; General Straker had dialled in with her head of AFOSI investigations. The hunt for UNSub94 was now on the back burner; all they could do was to wait.

In closing the meeting, Gibbs thanked everyone and finished with a (hopefully uplifting) prediction: "Now, all we need to do is continue watching and regularly updating our investigations but pray that this SoB slips up".

As the meeting broke up, Terri stepped out of the shielded door of MTAC and picked up her cellphone; it was time to fulfill her promise made at Christmas to her husband.

"Hello, Dr McCool's office? I need to schedule an appointment with her, or an equivalent. Yes, my name is Dr Teresa Ellen Coulter-Rabb. I am a USNR ME and FBI ME; we're wrapping up a distressing case involving NCIS, the FBI, AFOSI and a serial. Yes, of course..."

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 12 - Part 22 - "Navy Victim 2002/1".**

 **Thursday 14th February 2002 - 21:35hrs EST**

 **Catz 'n' Dogz Bar & Grill, Southside, Constitution Street, Georgetown, Washington DC**

As the party paused for a refill of the drinks, LtCdr Faith Coleman eased out of the booth around the large table. She stood up, adjusting to standing in her uncharacteristically-tall high heels and smoothed out the creases in her leather skirt as she surveyed the table before her. Ten colleagues were sharing a "run ashore" after completing a JAG legal standards workshop over the past three days in Falls Church, following on from her TAD work on the UNSUB94 case. The group decision had been to stay on after the course end, to celebrate to success of the entire cadre in achieving certification. Her cups of coffee and glasses of water had run through her body and she needed to make room for more wine.

Faith was also marking the one-year anniversary of the break-up from the Marines Colonel who had shared her life in San Diego for two years before he finally could no longer cope with her little idiosyncrasies (or, as he had eventually come to term them, " _Faith's big OCD hang-ups_ "). Faith had felt that she had accommodated Pete during their relationship - she felt that she had loosened up somewhat (after all, she had made love with him at least every month, which was a major relaxation for Faith) but Pete had wanted more - typical man! Eventually they had parted, affectionately and regretfully - she reckoned that the bastard had chosen Valentine's Day to get out of paying for a meal!

Faith had decided to mark this one-year anniversary of their break-up by wearing the knee-length black leather skirt which Pete had bought her for her birthday whilst they were still together - she had thought it too racy at the time, but tonight she was going to wear it in his honour as she celebrated her freedom, matched with a simple white shirt. The material of her skirt felt completely different against her skin, caressing the tops of her thighs in a way that her Dress Blues or Dress Whites never did. The casual clothes were a complete contrast to the uniforms which she and the other JAGs had worn the previous evening, when they had first visited this bar straight from work for the "Wednesday wind-down" at the end of the middle day of the course.

Returning from the powder room, Faith watched the server approach her team's table with a tray of drinks and she realised that she had missed the next round of drinks, so she diverted to the bar to order what she had intended to be a soft drink.

Standing stiffly at the bar (a difficult task in her unfamiliar 3" spiked heels), Faith noticed the charming dark-haired gentleman seated at the bar to her right, finishing off a burger as he leaned over his plate. He lifted a wine glass from the four clean glasses on the bar in front of him, carefully (and obviously soberly) topped up his glass from a nearly-full bottle; then he filled an unused glass and held the glass out to Faith with a winning smile.

She had a vague recollection that this guy had been propping up the bar last night as well.

"Madam, I promise that I won't bite but" he looked down at his wedding ring "I would welcome intelligent female company, even for five minutes, before I head back to my hotel room to update my wife back in England on how my 45th consecutive day in America has gone. I must say, it is quite cold here in February - I've been coming across here in May for the past eight years or so in connection with my endocrinology business."

"My reason for intruding into your particular personal space is that you could also, perhaps, please help me with what to look for as I purchase a leather skirt for Her Ladyship as a present from my travels or, of course, you could tell me to mind my own business" he added as he glanced admiringly at Faith's legs.

The man smiled once more and Faith could feel her reserve and resolve melting away. Who could resist that lovely smile and that delicious English accent - even the leading buttoned-down female member of the USN JAG Corps wasn't immune, was she? And it was the one-year anniversary of her transition back to solo status and he was married so she felt safe and...

Against her better judgement, Faith picked up the proffered glass and took her first sip. The elderflower aroma was refreshing. He noticed her raised eyebrows and commented: "Yes, one of your Californian Sauvignons that my wife and I love to import into England - I sometimes think that we keep your Robert Mondavi vineyards in business. Some of your countrymen (and women of course) find the flavour a little overpowering but for me, with this meal..." (he gestured to the wreckage of a 'House Monster Burger' on the plate in front of him)… "I find it cuts through the grease of this dead cow and helps clear my palate".

He smiled and shrugged: "Well, it certainly did that with last night's burger anyway!" They both laughed at his joke.

He sighed and looked down at the plate once more, then looked into Faith's soul as he smiled: "Sadly it cannot restore my appetite for the lovely looking desserts, so I am destined to return another day to continue my research into the menu. What do you think, Madam?"

 **Swayed by his manners and the unusual British accent, Faith took another - larger - swig of the wine.**

 **He was right, this was a big flavour - it flooded her palate, blotting out everything else with the strong elderflower notes. She smiled - and took a further mouthful as she relaxed her hips and leaned in to close the distance between her and the intriguing, married, Brit with the leather-loving wife back home...…**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 12 - "Autopsy" and "Birthday" and "Victim 2002/1" (parts 20, 21 and 22)**


	13. A race into Darkness

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 13 - part 23)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests) are always helpful - and welcomed, so please do not be shy! Thank you.

 **A/N:** I have only mentioned - in passing - the final Teresa Coulter "JAG" canon episode "In Country" (S07Ep23), which was first broadcast on 14-May-2002. Sadly, for once the canon timeline just doesn't support Harm and Terri's second pregnancy, which is tied to a conception in mid-September 2001 when it occurs in my AU. The hunt for Kabir will have to go on, in Afghanistan, without Terri's USNR ME expertise 'on the ground' because she will be eight months pregnant in this AU! I remain sure that the "B" team of military MEs will be able to assist Harm, Mac, Gunny Galindez and Webb in tracking the terrorist (and the uranium!) across the lawless border regions. Terri's excellent forensic skills are needed far closer to home.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Phase Thirteen of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Race into darkness".**

A/N 24-08-2018: ...and now, on with Chapter Thirteen. Things get dark in this chapter. Faith Coleman's disappearance is noticed and the investigation into the frozen ladies bears fruit - continuing the XO into "NCIS" territory.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 13 - Part 23 - "A Race into darkness".**

 ** ** **Friday** **15th February 2002 - 08:35hrs EST******

 **Outside NCIS Multiple Threat Assessment Centre (MTAC), NCIS HQ, Washington DC**

"OK people, grab your coffees and let's settle and get started; has anyone seen Faith Coleman this morning?"

Gibbs, McGee, DiNozzo and Terri Coulter-Rabb were preparing for a quick videoconference status check with Air Force General Eileen Straker, running over a post-closure " _lessons learned_ " exercise for the "UNSub94" case investigation, which had been running since the Christmas Day warehouse fire in DC. This was SOP for Federal authorities after a long investigation, running through a process which was looking for techniques to improve future performance as well as " _dotting 'i's and crossing 't's_ " in seeking perfection - and hoping that they would find the one slender, almost-overlooked piece of evidence or half-remembered throw-away comment which might just make (and break open) the case.

Towards the end of the investigation, Terri's spine had signalled its gratitude for the end of almost two months' worth of continuous autopsies - not an ideal level of workload for a pregnant ME (even the best in the business) at this stage in her pregnancy, having passed the five months point and with four months to her due date. She was looking forward to getting back to a more-normal FBI workload (whatever "normal" in the FBI might involve!) from mid-February onwards.

From the back of the classroom, the dulcet tones of Anthony "juvenile" DiNozzo piped up. "Nope, but I know that the JAG legal standards crew were planning a run ashore last night to mark the end of the course that she was on after we finished the case work on Monday; she may be nursing a hangover perhaps or waiting to unlock the handcuffs if she got lucky?"

Terri Coulter-Rabb snorted in derision at that suggestion. "Nope DiNozzo, I'm not buying that. Faith Coleman is a woman who keeps icy control of her life - if it wasn't for a comment about splitting up from her boyfriend a year ago, I would quite imagine her, even at her age in her 30s, still being a... _Hello, Terri Coulter-Rabb_ ". Terri broke off from her chain of thought to answer her phone.

"Good morning Agent Pacci; yes I am quite well-acquainted with the Commander and we've been working on a task force recently and deriving benefit from her sharp mind and her organisational skills. No, as it happens, funnily enough we were just saying that no-one had seen her this morning, which is unusual in itself; she normally gets in early enough to make the first batch of coffee exactly to her liking." Terri moved her pose, adjusting her position to accommodate the five-month baby growing within her. "Look, because I am primarily FBI rather than USNR these days, now that we will have wound down the "UNSub94" Task Force and put it into cold storage (aka _'monthly review'_ ) from Monday, so might I please hand you to to Agent Gibbs regarding Commander Coleman?"

She looked helplessly across at Gibbs, holding out her phone to him as she massaged her baby-swollen mid-section. Ever the gentlemen, Gibbs stepped over and took her cell-phone; with his other arm, he propelled an executive chair towards her, gesturing that she should sit. Terri smiled gratefully and sat down to wait for Gibbs.

"Hey Pacci, a quick straw poll here a little earlier suggested that Coleman may be - *very* uncharacteristically - nursing a hangover somewhere".

He looked discomfited by the reply: "Oh, you're at her VOQ now and there is no sign; her uniform is still hanging there neatly" (he repeated this for the benefit of the audience). "Well, the JAG team on the course which she attended had a wet-down last night after a legal standards course. Hey, why don't you try Lt Bud Roberts at JAG HQ to seek his help in tracking down the list of names for the other JAG course members via JAG HQ in Falls Church. He is a good fountain of knowledge, although many of the Commander's course participants may be in the air right now en-route back to their base locations. Yeah Chris, keep on it - and when does she become officially UA?"

He grunted at the reply and scribbled some words on his notepad, finished with "OK Chris, keep on it" then struggled to shut off the call and eventually handed the phone back to Terri. She checked the phone, terminated the call and slid it back into the pocket of her blazer. She looked at Gibbs hopefully.

"Mystery solved?"

Gibbs shook his head.

"No Doc, mystery deepened; no sign of Coleman and it looks like she didn't get back to her quarters last night, but not much we can do right now".

"Agreed, Gibbs - thanks for your thoughts, and I agree with your prognosis that we can do nothing for now regarding Faith Coleman".

Terri looked up at the team: "OK folks, shall we get started and we'll pick up Faith's contribution later on when she gets in? Tim, would you keep track of the learning points as we go through, please? But do, please contribute your own thoughts as well - you are a full member of the Task Force and your IT skills were fundamental to our success in identifying the frozen victims and the time-line of ownership of the building".

The 11:00hrs coffee break brought no further news of Faith's whereabouts. Light-hearted jokes about " _the aliens have reclaimed their favourite android_ " began to circulate, being slapped down with a light-hearted disapproval. Nevertheless, a few people experienced nagging worries regarding the unheard-of absence of Commander Faith Coleman from her scheduled location.

Terri's diligent work as the FBI ME, coupled with Ducky Mallard's work in the NCIS mortuary and the contribution from Eileen Straker regarding the USAF ladies, had confirmed their initial hypotheses and ideas. On moving to the section of the discussion regarding "motives", Terri floated an unusual hypothesis. This was based upon the evidence recovered from the bodies of the six civilian women. These had turned out to have been taken earlier, disappearing in June of 1988 through to June of 1993 from a variety of places across CONUS and their bodies had greater concentrations of coal dust from the West Virginia region.

"OK, so let's assume that his first was way back in '88, some 13-14 years ago. What triggered this UNSub?" Even after several months of working closely on the Task Force, Terri still found it hard to understand how one human being could kill 14 women and 28 foetuses - as a mother, she was more bothered by the loss of the babies.

Terri continued: "He's taken one heck of a long time to perfect his technique; what else is he doing?"

The 15-year timespan of the crimes of "UNSub94" (no-one bothered to change his name, because the "94" had stuck in the team memory and did not justify swapping with "88") lined up and showed both consistencies and variations; the six civilian women kidnapped up to 1993 had been killed at approximately five months of gestation. The USAF women ('95, '97, '99 and '01) overlapping with the NAVY female victims ('94, '96, '98 and 2000) had been killed when they were approximately six months pregnant, with the 2000 and 2001 victims carrying foetuses which appeared to have matured for even longer.

"So", Terri surmised "he has been perfecting his gestation technique - the kidnappings do not leave a ripple, whilst (after 1993) the pregnancies are left to run longer before he kills the victim. He also opened up his deep-freeze store in '93 as far as we can trace from the power accounts and the building history. He stashed the civilian women then went out after military girls. I guess his technique was established and stable by the time he kidnapped your first Air Force lady back in '95, General Straker".

On the VC screen, Eileen Straker nodded. "But why is he continuing to kidnap? His technique is stable; none of his victims show signs of having fought back - not even a broken fingernail; these are competent senior female officers, both Navy and Air Force. How the heck did he subjugate them? I know that, when I was pregnant with my own twins, I would have killed anybody - with my bare hands if needed - who threatened my babies". Straker looked up at the screen; "So what did this bastard do to our girls?"

Terri looked grimly at the screen: "But General, a broken finger-nail at the time of the kidnap would have grown out long-before the pregnant victim got to five or later months of her pregnancy".

Straker looked back at her and nodded wearily: "I shall be sure to ask him when we capture him; he *must* make a slip-up sometime".

"Amen to that" replied Gibbs.

 ** ** **Friday** **15th February 2002 - 16:52hrs EST******

 **Outside NCIS Multiple Threat Assessment Centre (MTAC), NCIS HQ, Washington DC**

As the conference broke up, Gibbs walked out of MTAC just behind Terri.

"Doc?"

"Yes, Agent Gibbs, how may I help?"

"Two things that I chose not to mention in the conference but would like your views on please, doc; one is a personal side-bar and the other may be important".

"OK, shoot"; Terri leaned on the railings outside MTAC with her hand braced in the small of her back to alleviate her aching spine, looking down into the bullpen then turned to face Gibbs.

"First, you looked uncomfortable a few times during that last session; might I ask when are you due?" Gibbs nodded at Terri's waistline.

"Around the first half of June; I'm carrying a boy, so he may well decide to sleep in and keep Harm and his mom (aka me) waiting for a while. But the last set of autopsies earlier this month gave me back-ache, bending over those darn tables. I have to say, Gibbs, that these past two months have taken it out of me; I need to rest my back and my hips before I do another stint of intensive work. Fortunately, Ducky has volunteered to cover any further work on my behalf and we make a good FBI-NCIS pairing". She smiled: "So, what was the other question?"

Gibbs frowned. "I didn't want to raise it in open session in the VC back in MTAC, but what if this misogynistic bastard has been running some bizarre fertility clinic, using these kidnapped woman as guinea-pigs? Every couple of years, he takes the process further, but he realised long ago that he couldn't have witnesses - ever?"

Terri gasped. "Gibbs, you are a genius - but why does he need to kill them? Surely they are held somewhere unidentifiable, he would never show his face (always sedating them based upon the needle marks) so they wouldn't ever know him. He could knock them out and arrange to leave them somewhere with their fully-formed babies; what he does is just desperately sick. We cannot identify the sedative that he is using, but it is obviously new and under development - plus it doesn't cross the placental barrier, making it *much* safer for pregnant mothers, who will always worry about any medicine which might transfer into their babies."

She paused, thinking through the evidence before continuing her train of thought. Then the light-bulb went on inside her head.

"But the evidence of steadily developing his technique does speak to him seeking to start productionising his processes. Last year's victim must have been impregnated almost immediately - which flies in the face of common sense unless all the timing just fell fortunately - and I'm in favour of your Rule 39, I almost fear for his victim in June of this year (we're anticipating him snatching a Navy brunette). I reckon that, at some point in the next year or so, his schedule will let his captive's pregnancy run to a full seven months, which is perilously close to triggering a birth (I was a month early with my first delivery). If he released them, they would be way past the point where any abortion could be performed. So, perhaps he doesn't want to risk a paternity claim?"

"Could this UNSub really be that cold?" asked Gibbs.

Terri weighed the evidence. "Well, he has killed every victim that we have discovered so far; which does not bode well if we allow him to kidnap another woman in June of this year - and remember that this year he should be stalking a USN Commander - unless he changes his methodology for some perverted desire for one last hurrah with a perfected process using a woman taken at random".

Gibbs' fingers were gripping the railing tightly as he thought through the likely events. "And then the bastard will kill her like all the others, some time in January. Doc, since we found this, I cannot let him kill a single further woman, whatever her branch of service; this run of murders ends this year".

"Amen to that Gibbs; we need to be ready for June - perhaps a pre-emptive strike, warning US Navy women (and maybe the other services?) during the second half of May. But now, I need to check in with my husband and make sure that he can meet me at the restaurant where I have booked our table for Valentine's evening. Are you doing anything?" she asked brightly.

Gibbs smiled sadly and shook his head. "No doc, I have a date in my basement with a boat and some bourbon".

"Hmm, how bizarre - but hey, whatever gets you through the night. Well Gibbs, as your consultant doctor, I advise you to drink out of a clean glass".

Gibbs treated her to a flash of his lop-sided grin as he thought of his basement workshop.

"Aw, doc, where is the fun in that?"

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 18th February 2002, 08:59hrs**

 **JAG HQ, Falls Church, VA**

With the convening of Staff Call in the main conference room on the morning of Monday 18th February 2002, Commander Faith Coleman, USN JAGC, was officially marked as UA and her details were circulated routinely to military police, NCIS and ports and airports. The remaining open cases that she had been brought in TAD to cover (working on these cases in between her allocated work on the "UNSub94" case) were re-distributed around the JAG Corps attorneys. The JAG HQ workflow continued, absorbing the minor ripple caused by Faith's absence.

Over the next month her photograph, which was pinned on multiple notice boards, began to yellow and curl up, before being overlaid with other, more-current, details and persons of interest. Faith Coleman slowly faded from memory.

It was as though Faith Coleman had dropped off the face off the planet. By March 14th there was still no sign of her anywhere.

 **Monday 15th April 2002, 10:27hrs**

 **JAG HQ, Falls Church, VA**

Terri Coulter-Rabb was writing up the decisions from the monthly review of the UNSub94 case. The meetings were held alternately at JAG and FBI HQ. During the week before every meeting, Terri made a point of doing two things in Faith's name; she offered up a prayer and she checked in with Gibbs on progress with the search for Faith. He appreciated the reminder and, in turn, tasked Tim McGee with carrying out an IT-focussed search for *anything* relating to the missing JAG Commander. Together, they also refreshed the "Missing" web pages with Faith's photograph and details. Nothing emerged relating to sightings at any point after Valentine's night.

The fact remained that any theory was valid - hell, Faith Coleman *could* have been abducted by aliens, because her kidnapper had left not a single trace of her.

The search had been exhaustive, but the absence of CCTV from several crucial areas of Washington meant that her disappearance had not been captured on any camera. Of course, the CCTV in the VOQ had captured her - "dressed to kill" as one of the female NCIS agents had described her in complimentary terms - as she left her quarters and she had shown up intermittently on CCTV inside Washington including the taxi which took her to her fateful evening gathering with her JAG colleagues, but there was nothing within half a block of the bar where she was presumed to have disappeared. Frustratingly, only "the other" half of the bar was covered by CCTV - the owner hadn't activated the new cameras installed to cover the actual bar area.

All CCTV source material in the area was subject to a federal warrant and had been impounded, preserved for the future and then progressively worked through (again, the post-9/11 software improvements of the US security services and agencies had been tested on the "Coleman Files" - looking for links, oddities and anything that might help in finding Faith).

Every new advance in image processing software was run against the Coleman files. However, the sad truth was emerging that without evidence, a suspect or Faith herself (or, more worryingly, a body) there was little that the investigators could now do.

At the end of every review meeting, Terri walked across the conference room in whichever site the meeting had taken place and looked out of the window, offered up another quick prayer as she surveyed the horizon and asked " _where did you go?_ " to the world at large.

 **Terri Coulter-Rabb was destined not to receive an answer until long after giving birth to her second child**.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Date unknown**

 **Time unknown**

 **Location unknown.**

Faith Coleman awoke. Her head hurt. Looking around, the bare electric lights high in the ceiling illuminated the boundaries of her small world. Struggling to sit up, she stared at the chain which ran up above her head to a wheeled block running along a rail attached to the ceiling; the rail ran in an approximate circle around all the four corners of her room (including the bathroom visible in the corner.)

Faith quickly realised that the chain from the ceiling was attached to her neck - by a thick metal collar. Looking at her wrists, they were shackled together with similar cuffs, joined together with around two feet of linked chain - and the bolts of the cuffs had been welded over! What the he...….?

Oh shit - and other unladylike comments!

Running a finger around her collar, then dragging her collar by grabbing the chain attached to the rail which ran ten feet about her head, she ran a tentative finger to explore the join between the chain and her collar. Finding the joint in the collar, she walked into the bathroom where a mirror was installed - looking at the collar, she realised that the bolt-head closing her collar had also been welded over; no spanner was going to release this collar from around her neck!

Oh double shit!

She was wearing some kind of cotton dress with a high neck, which almost covered her metal collar; her feet were bare - the concrete floor was rough on her skin. Faith laughed, realising that she was going to need a good pedicure when she got out of this prison. Feeling beneath the dress, Faith realised that she was stark naked! The only time that Faith normally went naked was in the nanosecond between turning off the shower in her bathroom and wrapping herself in a towel before grabbing her robe. Her nakedness alarmed her - she had lost another measure of control in her OCD pattern-dominated, routine-controlled life; and that life was spinning out of control - rapidly - in this shackled hell.

Oh triple shit! What the hell had happened? Why was she waking up, shackled in some pseudo LSD-driven nightmare landscape?

And then she remembered: **UNSub94**.

She remembered the Englishman in the bar.

The she remembered the flavour-filled wine.

Oh quadruple shit! Dammit, how could she have been so stupid? How could " _Little Miss prim 'n' proper_ " have been so dumb?

Her only answer was a rattle from the chains which restrained her.

Faith Coleman lay down on her bed and cried, savage tears of frustration as one thought played over and over in her mind.

" _Stupid, stupid, stupid! You got yourself into this, sister, all on your lonesome - and you walked in willingly with your eyes open_ ".

 **Typically for Faith, she blamed herself for this loss of control - rather than the unknown man who was actually the guilty party for capturing her into this situation.**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Tuesday 14th May 2002 -** **"In Country":**

 **Forward Operating Base, near Afghan border**

With the hunt for Kabir stalled, Harm and Mac spent time, with Gunny Galindez and Webb, in tracking the terrorist (and the uranium!) across the lawless border regions adjoining the Afghan border. Terri, balancing the laptop on her eight-month pregnancy "bump", advised from afar (her settee at home in Nebraska Avenue).

Terri's advice on the condition of Kabir's finger enabled the team (including Clayton Webb) to avoid the mistake of declaring Kabir dead in the aftermath of the airstrike. Harm leaned around the video camera and blew Terri a kiss from the middle of Afghanistan. He was delighted to see on the screen that she "caught" the kiss and blew one back. Watching the long-distance interplay between husband and wife, Mac realised that there were some parts of a married life which had simply flown clear past her.

Harm later recounted his " _night under the stars_ " with Mac - and the sudden end to the night's rest caused by the aerial bombing! Terri could only laugh from afar, wishing both of them a better night's sleep for the following night. She was also glad to hear that the radiation incident in Qarquin did not expose Harm and Mac to danger, as the material had already been shipped away over the border. Nevertheless, Terri worried, like every military spouse whose other half was in a war zone. Her sleep pattern was not helped by the activity of her nearly-ready-to-arrive baby.

The following week, the submarine-based hunt for the ex-Soviet submarine and its cruise missile, Harm's heroics in an F-14 leading the cruise missile away from the fleet and the damage to Bud Roberts caused by the landmine brought May '02 to a violent end.

Terri was just glad to have Harm home by the end of the month; they spent time baby-sitting "little" AJ in order to enable Harriett to stay focussed on visiting Bud. The end of May was distinctly down-beat for the wide JAG "family".

 **Friday 7th June 2002 - 10:34hrs EST**

 **FBI HQ, J Edgar Hoover Building, Washington DC**

The monthly search update for Faith Coleman (who had now been listed UA for three months) threw up nothing by way of new leads during May of '02. Comfortingly, there was no sign of a body appearing. Equally, the advice to female military officers was being drafted, particularly looking ahead to the start of June - because June 1st fell on a Saturday, there was the possibility of delayed reporting of UA personnel.

The team believed that their advice to female military officers had borne fruit. By Friday 7th June, there had been no reports of missing female US Navy Commanders; one female lieutenant was briefly reported UA in San Francisco, but arrived healthy at work on the Wednesday to discover that her CO's adjutant had dropped her leave request under her desk!

Terri continued counting down towards her due date, advising and consulting from her settee as she relaxed, awaiting the periodic return home of her husband; each time he promised to he back in time for arrival of their second child. Following the events of May involving her husband and his JAG colleagues, she reckoned that the arrival of her second child would almost be an anti-climax for her Tomcat!

But where the heck was Faith Coleman?

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 10th June 2002, 22:45hrs**

 **Sibley Maternal Fetal Medicine**

 **C, 5255 Loughboro Rd NW, Washington, DC 20016**

With Trisha and Frank Burnett keeping little (41-month-old) Ellie occupied at home in Nebraska Avenue, Harm had driven Terri to hospital after her waters had broken as they were finishing breakfast. In November 2001 after learning that she was pregnant, Terri had researched and then cultivated the best OB/GYN experts in the DC area and the "maternity mafia" within her circle of medical friends. All had unwaveringly pin-pointed Sibley as the "go-to" place for excellence in Maternity services.

A 14-hour labour resulted in the birth, at 22:07hrs on the Monday evening, of David Thomas Harmon Coulter-Rabb. As the nurses took David away to clean him up and check him over, an exhausted second-time mother squeezed her husband's hand and said: "Harm, the next time we are comforting each other after a catastrophic world event like last September, I want you to remember to wear a condom!"

"Yeah right, my darling".

Harm, with his right hand slowly returning to use after Terri's talons had dug into him (he'd forgotten the gauntlets again!), could only nod in agreement as he gazed across at the human perfection that was their first son.

" **Welcome David Thomas Harmon Coulter-Rabb; we need to introduce you to your big sister Ellen** ".

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Date unknown**

 **Time unknown**

 **Location unknown.**

Faith Coleman awoke. Once more, the bare electric lights high in the ceiling illuminated her small world. Dragging her collar by the chain attached to the rail ten feet about her head, she walked barefoot to the toilet in the washroom situated in the corner of the cell which had been her home for some time - she tried to count back the days and rapidly failed. Why could she not concentrate?

She had forgotten how long this place had been her home; wherever her Master was injecting her with, it had the combined effect of eliminating her will to resist and her customary military precision about caring for her appearance and her location. She had jokingly chosen the term "Master" as a deliberate insult to whichever misogynistic cretin had dragged her off the streets and imprisoned her, against her will, in this dimly-lit hell-hole.

Approaching the toilet, she began to feel rather dizzy. She suspected that it wasn't the collar, because she had long-ago submitted to its pressure on her neck and her Master had allowed her to wear a scarf - now filthy like much of her clothing - beneath the rusty metal as a cushion. She bent over the toilet as far as she could, pulling vainly against the cold control of the steel collar welded around her neck, then she relaxed slightly and vomited. She noted, with relief, that the queasiness slowly subsided.

She was concerned that this was the third morning on the run that she had been sick on waking, or within the first hour of moving around; normally she enjoyed the standard cast-iron constitution of a US Navy officer, able to cope with any "food" that the Navy chefs could throw at her. The sickness every morning was worrying. she looked up at the CCTV camera housings in the roof far above her head: her Master *must* know that she was unwell - surely?

Finishing up, she rinsed out her mouth then brushed her teeth and, removing the scarf and unbuttoning the long cotton dress which she wore to cover her otherwise-naked form, she headed for the shower. Shortly after her capture, she had rejoiced in remembering the Navy mantra of " _she who showers first showers quickest_ ", because it enabled her to be completely clean before the bastard (sorry, " _Her Master_ " she forced herself to acknowledge sarcastically through gritted teeth) shut off her hot water ration.

She hadn't seen the masked man for some weeks - but that didn't mean anything, because he could have pumped in more anaesthetic gas at any time. She had, on several occasions, awoken to find that something had changed in the room during her "sleep" periods. There was always a clean dress in the wardrobe; simple, cotton, sleeved like a Victorian or Edwardian nightdress, no labels, buttoned fully down the front from throat to mid-calf.

She was still trying to work out where the wedding ring had come from, which she now wore on the ring finger of her left hand in the customary manner, where it had appeared on her finger one day as she awoke from a deep overnight sleep - thereby confirming her suspicions about being drugged. And yet - she never woke up with a headache after these suspected "nocturnal visits"...

Frustratingly, every attempt that she had made to remove the wedding ring had merely resulted in a sore finger - her Master's ring remained resolutely in place, marking her (in her mind) as His property. With Faith Coleman's previous absolute obsessive desire to control her life, this small, visible symbol on her finger continued to eat away at her self-assurance, her independence and - most worrying of all - her sanity in this isolated cell.

Her mind turned back to the queasiness as she wondered what could be causing these stomach upsets.

She took stock. Food poisoning was unlikely, because she always washed the fresh fruit before she ate it; she was steadily eating the military MRE packs which were stacked in the corner; she opened each one and consumed it on the spot, so there was little risk of contamination and the batch numbers were varied and the packaging was intact (Faith had forensically examined the boxed MREs when she first woke up in this dismal cell); she always pushed the wrappings and the leftovers into the slot in the wall marked " _ **garbage**_ ", hearing the waste dropping away and hitting something far below - but also giving her a scent of fresh air as air wafted up the shaft.

The fruit bowl was always replenished (and multi-purpose vitamin pills were always available) when she was asleep and she consumed a glass of orange juice "in the morning" (given the lack of outside awareness, she had a set of routine tasks which she ran through on awakening) and a glass of apple or tomato juice from the refrigerator "in the evening" (about an hour before she retired to bed to read what she had come to describe as her Master's " _brainwashing for slaves_ " handbook).

" _If I had a dollar for every time someone says 'obey your Master' or 'He is your Master' I would be rich_ ", Faith thought to herself. And yet, He was steadily dominating her days, her thoughts and her nights.

The rational part of what was left of her free spirit had realised that she was steadily becoming institutionalised. The terrifying part of the process was that she had no power against this, but her sentient intelligence was fully aware of what was happening. He was slowly taking over her soul and she was powerless to resist. Even her memories of her original capture had already become hazy.

He was close to breaking her.

Faith realised, in that awful moment, that she simply had no reserves left to stop Him.

She had nothing left with which to resist Him - all of her Naval and military training, her coping mechanisms, her personal processes and mantras which she used to remain in control of her life - all had been progressively stripped away.

She could only see two ways out - submission or rebellion. But how could she rebel, chained as she was?

Faith Coleman lay on her bed and slowly, deliberately and silently curled up into a foetal ball. Tears of frustration were not long in coming. Eventually, sleep came.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Wednesday 14th August 2002** **\- 10:58hrs EST**

 **NCIS Multiple Threat Assessment Centre (MTAC), NCIS HQ, Washington DC**

 **Case conference - six months on from Faith's vanishing.**

Two months on from David's birth, Terri dialled in from home to join the six-month workshop which was focussed on the continuing mystery of Faith Coleman's complete disappearence from the face of the earth on the evening of Valentine's Day 2002. Six months on from the February conference concerning the "UNSub94" case, another case review was being held. There was a nagging suspicion that "UNSub94" might have had a hand in Faith's disappearance, but no evidence - even the timing was wrong, however it was an inescapable fact that he did not appear to have taken a USN Commander (nor even a USAF colonel) in early June. There were no UA female officers reported across all the services, from Memorial Day until the middle of June.

Trawling back through all the combined evidence that had been gleaned from the 14 frozen female bodies in the warehouse had left more questions than answers. Terri had run herself ragged, trying to glean that one extra item of detail which would break the case. Because every one of the female victims was single (the FBI had identified three of the six "civilians", but they still held three "Jane Doe" corpses) there was no family pressure to arrange burials. Where the victims had parents, the parents had all (perhaps with the understanding that came with having a child in the military) agreed to postpone burials and let NCIS and the FBI, along with AFOSI, continue the investigation.

Every woman had been killed between the fifth and seventh month of pregnancy with the duration of the pregnancy increasing with each year (most of them had died around the six-month mark, at the end of the second trimester);

Each woman had been pregnant with one male and one female foetus (as every member of the examination/investigation team had remarked at one time or another, " _this is beyond weird_ ");

The same male donor had fathered every single one of the foetuses. With 28 foetuses in total, the DNA sampling had been extensive - and conclusive. However, what perplexed the investigators was the fact that the male DNA was not held on ANY database worldwide; the UNSub was a "ghost" - and a very clever one.

Terri's detailed analysis had been assisted by the NCIS lab techs and by "Ducky" Mallard. The pattern of existence for the female victims, post-capture, was laid out in terrifyingly-clear detail.

The women victims had all been kept sedated with a pharmaceutical compound that defied identification and yet did not show up anywhere (in *any* quantities) within the foetuses inside the female corpses. Additionally, each woman had been killed by the injection of a powerful neurotoxin into her neck at the base of her skull; a two-centimetre square patch of hair had been shaved off at the back of her neck, with the neurotoxin injection site smack-dab in the middle of the shaved area; the only conclusion possible was that the UNSub wanted to test his seduction, sedation, fertilisation and control techniques, but without any of the captured women ever reaching the point where they could give birth - or give evidence. Terri recalled the old mantra: " _Dead men tell no tales_ " and shed a tear for all these dead women, whose only fault had been to be female and fitting the profile of victim that the UNSub was seeking in that particular year.

Each woman's body had been frozen with the eyes open - Terri had found this particularly unusual, looking back over her 160-plus autopsies; it seemed to speak to a desire (on the part of the UNSub) for control - each woman would "watch" him as he placed her body into its naval (or USAF) uniform or civilian outfit and placed her, on her back, into the freezer assigned to her, added her shoes and then lowered the lid on her, padlocking the freezer and leaving her in the dark to freeze solid.

As Terri said: " _this guy is ALL about control - when we find him, he'll appear insignificant, just the kind of guy you would walk past in the street without a second glance"._

Ducky added: _"and that is what makes him so dangerous - precisely that invisibility: these intelligent, military-trained women did not see their fate coming, because they had no problems in accepting this man and evidently did not regard him as a threat_ ".

"And how on earth can it be that we do not have a record of this guy's DNA anywhere on any of the databanks that had been checked?"

Similarly he had been careful to stay hidden; these was only one single partial (20%) fingerprint found anywhere, on the underside of Alison Krennick's name-plate on her uniform. This guy was a "ghost" - and a frustratingly-successful one at that!

The careful analysis of the washings from each defrosted corpse revealed minute traces of tree sap from Washington State (in the northwest of the USA) and coal from the eastern USA. The consensus was that these artefacts had been "planted " to throw any investigations off the scent.

Radio-isotope analysis of the bodies revealed that they had been consuming water with a trace chemical composition from the Nevada region of the USA.

Trace analysis of the evidence was helpful - in throwing up further confusion! The metal used in the rusty collars which had been "worn" by each woman (for some considerable period of time, given the leaching of iron into the skin of each woman) indicated low-grade steel from Pennsylvania. By contrast, the cuffs were fabricated using steel from Germany. This threw up a transatlantic dimension, further muddying the waters.

The confusing array of identifiable geographic areas was particularly frustrating. As one of the consulting British pathologists on the task force was heard to remark during a particularly stressful workshop: " _This guy's taking the piss out of us_ ". There was nothing to pin down a specific geography. The evidence was almost deliberately selected to confuse any investigators when the women were finally discovered. The Task Force members were painfully aware that, had the warehouse not caught fire that Christmas night, the bodies might very well have lain undisturbed for another ten years - or even longer.

So, what was the UNSub trying to do? Enhance and develop a perfect system for sex-selection using artificial insemination? Test some new anaesthetic compound on human subjects without bothering with the restrictions and reassurances of the Geneva Conventions? The investigation team continued to wrack their brains to understand his objectives - because that might give a glimmer of an insight into his identity. But nothing came clear, despite the application of high IQ brains to the problem over many months.

As the investigations had continued, Faith Coleman was still UA.

Terri and Ducky were baffled by the apparent cold heartlessness of the manner in which the UNSub had seized, handled, subjugated, confined and then inseminated his victims before cold-bloodedly killing each of them months later. Terri was very glad to have met and married her Harm, because prior to 1998 she had been a single, care-free divorced USN officer (until that fateful trip to Arizona in April 1998). Although she had, of course, assumed that Harm had a past romantic background before she made her move on him, she had gone a little wild in the years following her divorce from Rory - it wasn't just Memphis PD staff that she had sometimes romanced with in her search for gratification. Terri was also aware that, under different circumstances, *she* could have been occupying a freezer since the last century!

She was certain that her "calling" to become a forensic pathologist - although initially driven by her mother's murder - would ensure that she could do good deeds for humanity. Worldwide, evidence was building that the wide range of serial killers and simply deranged individuals who went around killing strangers (and friends) randomly was growing; there were more criminals with each passing year, not fewer. Terri knew that she was in the right place.

Meanwhile, the investigation into Faith's background had revealed a single, one-dimensional woman with little social activity. Terri had actually ended up feeling very sorry for the lawyer with the " _OCD briefcase from hell_ " (as Harm had described her). Faith had inherited her home in San Diego following the deaths of her parents on a light plane crash over Arizona some years earlier when she was working in Okinawa, so the apartment was fully paid for (by a trust fund which could, quite easily, run until somewhere in the summer of 2036 or even into early 2037, with all fees paid for including a weekly sweep by the concierge on a Friday to collect and open and itemise and deal with any items of mail). But of Faith herself, the personality and character remained an almost blank page (perhaps with just a couple of charcoal marks to sketch out the main reference points). She had clearly embraced the law in order to seek out an ordered life, controlled by rules and regulations - which was enhanced further by Faith's choice of her military career.

Photographs of the apartment, studied by the team, merely recorded a picture-perfect home ready for a spread in "House and Home" or other publications. The only thing missing was a bonsai tree. Her clothes and spare uniforms were hanging in perfect symmetry, shoes and boots all polished (many in their original boxes) and aligned in the wardrobes, along with five pairs of pristine running shoes. A stack of ten 10-packs of unused pencils occupied space on the shelving units. As Gibbs had observed, her apartment matched the organised layout in the back of her SUV. Viewing the photographs, one of Gibbs' female NCIS colleagues remarked that she would be " _worried if my underwear drawer was that neat and well-ordered_ ".

Even Ducky's usually masterful "psychological autopsy" techniques failed to enhance the body of knowledge gleaned from the information on the UNSUB in this case. Faith Coleman had grown up, apparently without developing a real personality. She had existed, joined the US Navy, qualified as a JAG, won the verdict in a significant load of cases but then went " _back in her box_ " every night.

Faith's only apparent boyfriend to be identified was her Marine, who described her social awkwardness, the efforts which he had invested in trying to get her to relax and open up in social settings, along with her slow reluctance to engage in the physical manifestations of their relationship. Pete did feel, he said in interviews, that he had left Faith as a better person, but she was still not a whole, rounded human being when they had reluctantly parted in February of 2001 as his unit shipped out from San Diego.

Terri had, regretfully, needed to dial into the August workshop rather than attending in person - the domestic front was still just too disorganised for her to get away from her new baby. As she had been overheard in a previous conversation talking about young David Thomas Harmon Coulter-Rabb: " _He's a typical Rabb man - whines a lot, thinks that he is perfect and expects to be waited on hand and foot; well, the lesson in real life starts next week_ ".

Terri had set Monday 19th August as her "return to work" date at the FBI. She had finally had enough of playing at " _stay at home Mom_ " - her sanity, her professional pride and her need for peer-group intellectual stimulation had driven her back to work; once more, the nursery at FBI HQ gained a customer.

Reluctantly and frustratingly, the investigators had to admit that the trail of Commander Faith Marie Coleman was now a stone-cold one after six long months. Once more, in 2002 the question was asked: " _How does a modern woman vanish in a civilised, well-organised country like the USA?_ "

In future years, the FBI would get an improved body of evidence in the answer, as successive groups of long-hidden kidnap victims emerged from their dark hiding places where their different captors had imprisoned them. Every time, the FBI studied the evidence (and the rescued victims) that emerged, steadily adding to the body of knowledge.

But once more, " _Cold Case_ " status loomed for Faith Coleman.

 **At the end of the review, they had to admit: Commander Faith Coleman was - currently - beyond their help**.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Thursday 28th November 2002 (** **Thanksgiving** **) - 12:50hrs EST;**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Harm had prepared the turkey and everyone was present; Trisha and Frank Burnett, Thomas Chaddock, Harm and Terri with "no-longer-little" Ellen (approaching her fourth birthday at New Year) and five-month-old David.

They raised a toast to "absent friends". With all three living grand-parents - Harm's parents were certain that Thomas Chaddock was, by now, fully-integrated into the Coulter-Rabb family dynamic - Harm felt that his family was complete.

Sipping her wine, Terri wondered what was happening with Faith; her only glimmer of hope was that, presuming that UNSub94 was the guilty party, he would be keeping Faith for his usual process. This would mean that stubborn Faith's body and spirit were offering dogged resistance (and, hopefully, had not fallen pregnant); if not, Terri reckoned that by now Faith's days on this earth were numbered.

She offered up, once more, a quick prayer for Faith's safe return.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Date unknown**

 **Time unknown**

 **Location unknown.**

Faith Coleman awoke. Once more, the bare electric light high in the ceiling illuminated her small world. Dragging her collar by the chain attached to the rail ten feet about her head, she walked barefoot to the toilet in the washroom situated in the corner of the cell which had been her home for some time - she tried to count back the days and rapidly failed.

She had forgotten how long this had been her home; wherever her Master was injecting her with, it had the combined effect of eliminating her will to resist and her customary military precision about caring for her appearance and her location.

Approaching the toilet, she began to bend her body to accommodate the swelling foetus within her. She swore at this state of affairs: she had no memory of the impregnation, only the evidence that she was getting fatter; she could now feel the child regularly moving and exercising inside her. Thinking back to her Health Ed lessons in her High School, Faith realised that this meant she was 20-24 weeks gone, meaning that the options for an abortion were about to time out - if they hadn't already passed.

As she showered, Faith ran through a mental exercise which had helped her retain some resistance to her captor's influence. Then, as she shampooed her hair, her fingers found a shaved patch of skin in the back of her neck, roughly in line with the base of her skull. What was He up to now? Faith didn't even bother thinking that He had, once more, invaded her personal space without her knowledge.

The knowledge of her pregnancy had, some time back, inhibited her from the course of action that she had planned in response to some particularly dark thoughts during a period when she was especially sensitive to her hopelessness - terminating her own life to bring an end to the sheer, unremitting torment of her daily non-existence. But now, she faced a further, and new for Faith, dilemma - if she chose to kill herself, how could she terminate an innocent life?

\- She was being forced to think about someone other than herself - yet this was someone to whom the was inextricably and symbiotically linked.

How could she deny life to the defenceless little passenger that was growing, day-by-day, in her womb, drawing everything that it required from her body?

Faith wondered, once more, how in the hell had she fallen pregnant? Looking closely at her body, Faith noticed for the first time two faint marks, roughly in line with where she would expect her ovaries to be located (again, thinking back to her High School lessons in Biology). Damn! This confirmed that she had, almost certainly, fallen into the clutches of UNSub94. She recalled, with perfect detail, the case files of the "Motherhood Killer" and the kidnapped Navy and USAF ladies. The evidence of her body led her to assume that "MK" was involved.

Now she knew, with growing certainty, that her days were numbered - as were the days of her unborn foetus, which seemed to become more active with every passing day. She was sure that He would not permit them to survive, based upon the fates of his previous victims.

 _You silly, silly woman_ , she berated herself.

 _How the hell could you abandon your careful, almost-antisocial, approach to men that night?_

 _Because I was lonely,_ came the reply. _I am a woman, I have needs; it had been a year since Pete_.

 _Yes and look where that's got you - chained, buried, pregnant and with a short life expectancy._

 _Oh this is pointless - I'm not arguing with you any more._

With her ablutions completed and with her body freshly showered, Faith Coleman pulled on a fresh dress and got back onto her bed; alone, despairing, hopeless, bored and pregnant.

" _I swear, when I get out of here, I'll have rust marks around my neck for months_ ". Once more, despite the months of evidence proving she could not remove the collar, Faith tugged at the metal welded around her neck. The chain linked to the collar around her neck didn't allow Faith enough slack to kneel down on the floor, so she knelt on the bed in prayer, her forehead resting on the bed-head. Then she realised something: _she was still thinking about escape_ \- so that was a positive thought.

 _"Dear God, I haven't spoken to you very often, but like most prayers that you hear, I guess this is just another selfish one in your vast inbox today. Please God get me out of here! If you have to take me as part of the deal, then please spare this innocent life growing inside me and let him or her have a chance of life with a good Christian family who will teach him or her to remember me and what I did to try to survive long enough for him or her to have a chance at survival."_

She slowly relaxed, accepting her fate - whatever was to come, Faith Coleman would meet her fate with her eyes wide open. She owed that to the unborn child within her and the memory of her parents. But now, she had her baby to consider; how in the hell had she managed to conceive?

Then just as she bowed her head in acceptance of her fate, her eyes alighted on something on the floor, right against the back wall and under the table upon which the fresh fruit appeared regularly from her master.

It couldn't be - it looked like a cell-phone! Talk about answered prayers!

Slowly, carefully, unbelievingly, Faith Coleman got off the bed and walked towards the item on the floor. Because the chain prevented her bending down, she had to "hook" the item out with her toe.

 **Saturday December 7th 2002, 01:34hrs EST**

 **NCIS ALERT Response Centre 24-hour Operations Centre, **Navy Yard, Washington DC****

" _Good morning, this is NCIS emergency response centre_ ".

Like most Government institutions, NCIS maintained a 24/7/366 alert system - there was always someone in place to answer a call. Faith had, from memory, punched out a call to 1-800-NCIS-HELP and their policy was " _answer on the first ring_ ". Even - or especially - on the anniversary of the Pearl Harbour attacks way back in 1941, the watch never faltered.

" _Hello, my name is Faith Marie Coleman; I am a Commander in the JAG Corps and I was kidnapped some time ago; I do not know where I am, but I want you to triangulate on this cell-phone's location and please COME AND FIND ME!"_

"Yes ma'am, I have your case here - you are always in our thoughts" the Marine on duty already had Faith's file open on the system and the technology was swinging into action automatically in the background, recording the call and seeking out the origin as an SOP.

"Ma'am, can you tell me..."

On the other end of the call there was a crash, an angry man's voice (indistinct) followed by Faith's terrified voice: " _no Master, I am sorry Master, I just wanted to touch the phone Master, please don't hit me Master_..." followed by a thud which instantly triggered a blood-curdling scream which, even when the tape was played years later, had the power to make any audience within earshot feel disgusted and upset. Then the call went dead.

However, Faith had achieved her goal - the call had lasted long enough for technology to be brought to bear in the search for her.

In NCIS, the duty Marine had already hit the "panic button" as soon as he had identified the caller as the missing Faith Coleman - summoning extra staff and firing off an alert escalation.

Within ten minutes (using investigative powers and processes which had been quickly developed by the FBI, MIT and the Secret Service - along with unacknowledged "consultation" from the CIA to complete the 'alphabet soup' of collaboration - in the aftermath of 9/11), the call had been tracked to a set of cell towers within the eastern USA.

 _(On November 22nd 2002, the Homeland Security Act had begun to establish a new organisation - but on this day two weeks later, it would be NCIS and the FBI who would lead the effort to locate Faith Coleman and to rescue her)._

The call information gave up the IMEI of the cellphone (its unique "fingerprint" in the electronic world).

The IMEI indicated a UK-based cellphone.

Swift international communications (helped by the fact that the UK, being five hours ahead of Washington, was fully awake) swiftly tracked the number to a UK company. The UK Foreign & Commonwealth Office authorised SIS (more commonly known as MI6) to liaise with MI5 (the UK's internal Security Service) and rapid tracing was underway on the eastern side of the Atlantic.

The cell-phone was traced to a batch of cellphones supplied on contract to a UK pharmaceuticals company; the contract listed a name for each allocated cell-phone.

The UK company was involved in developing and manufacturing pharmaceuticals (specifically sedatives and a new "side-effect free" sedative launched the previous year) and endocrinology (specifically to assist females who were struggling with conception problems). In the past year, they had launched two successful new compounds and services after ten years of research which, apart from delivering great results for women struggling to conceive, had given the company a lock-in on the market through global patents. The owner (and major shareholder) of the company, after spending more than a decade marketing the idea to US giants, was now being courted by the truly massive USA pharma companies now that the UK-developed compound had passed all FDA and regulatory hurdles. The company had closed down a research site in the eastern USA around a decade earlier and the investigators now had a shrewd suspicion that they had just discovered the sources of the freezers that were found in Georgetown after the fire.

All the pieces fell into place during those ten minutes.

Then came the moment of truth in response to the urgent desire - _find a name_.

A name was identified and then swiftly verified with US Immigration as having entered the USA through Dulles on February 10th (four days before Faith Coleman had last been positively seen on Valentine's night). Crucially, he was still in the country ten months later - he had an unlimited H-1 visa, he had an unlimited-duration Business Class ticket with British Airways back to Heathrow and he had committed no offence, so US Immigration were happy for him to remain. But this was a longer stay in 2002 than in any of the other years since 1993, because in previous years he arrived during May and usually left around Christmas (around seven months later). His credit card footprint was trawled, picking up car rentals and hotel stays in the Northeast corner of the USA, particularly West Virginia where the former research centre had been located (a quick check of aerial photographs confirmed that the site had been razed to the ground and that Mother Nature had largely reclaimed the site). He always turned off his cellphone before leaving his hotels. There was no GPS footprint of his travels; the phone just powered up, in the evening, on arrival at his destination hotel and then powered down. This pattern of usage was consistent across the years - as far back as cell-phone tracking data was available.

But he must be here in the USA for a reason (even one as simple as " _he knows the area_ ").

So where the hell was he hiding?

 _Back in the USA, the location of Faith's call and the cellphone was traced - triangulated to a the site of a redundant coal mine out in the woods of West Virginia._

 _Consulting maps and intel indicated only one substantial building and another structure within a half mile - the admin block and the mine shaft cover. Comparison with photographs taken when the mine was working showed a different structure had been built around the mine-shaft area._

 _Dropping out of the teleconference, Gibbs alerted his director and contacted General Straker for Air Force collaboration; "General, I need drones, helicopters and/or airplanes in the air and over that spot ASAP"; I am not letting that bastard escape"._

 _"You got it Gibbs, I want the same and I am waking up USAF ALERT squadron now; Straker out"._

Gibbs hung up and then dialled the US Marine Corps; as it happened, an ATARS-equipped F/A-18 Super Hornet was available at Norfolk; within ten minutes, the Hornet crew were waking up the eastern seaboard of the USA as, cleared for supersonic transit to West Virginia (on the promise of a refuelling KC-135 arriving to meet them), they wasted no time in getting on station. The data transmitted back was almost as good as a daylight view. For once, the cry of " _send in the Marines_ " had borne fruit.

 _Local LEO response was immediate and quite well-resourced for the early hours of a Saturday morning; no-one would be allowed to leave the mine area until the FBI/NCIS posse rolled into town._

 **Saturday 7th December** **2002 - 02:03hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

"Coulter". Terri was still surfacing when she answered the ringing phone.

" _Good morning Dr Coulter-Rabb - this is the NCIS MCRT duty officer; we have a notification for you regarding a Commander Faith Marie Coleman and a message from Agent Gibbs, who is keen to get you into the Navy Yard with an ETA of 'ASAP please, Doc' - his words, not ours - and yes, ma'am we *do* know what time it is on a Saturday morning_!"

The voice on the phone was calm, yet Terri picked up the underlying humour in the woman's tone. Terri's eyes had focussed on the bedside clock now, as she slapped Harm's arm to wake him up; he rapidly tuned into the conversation and she whispered " _Faith Coleman - located and alive_ " to him. Harm nodded calmly and slid out of bed, reaching for his dressing gown in the mid-night chill of the bedroom. Very often, Harm also took the "Duty JAG" responsibility over the same weekends so that the married Coulter-Rabb couple could plan their weekends away from DC for times when they were both off-duty together.

Terri reassured the NCIS caller. "Nah, don't worry - I am the FBI Duty ME for the DC region this weekend, so I am always alert to the possibility of a call. But that is brilliant news about Faith Coleman; OK, I am heading for the shower - please inform Agent Gibbs that I have a 20-minute drive from home to the Navy Yard; before that, I shall need about 20 minutes to get showered and kitted up, so assume an ETA around 02:50hrs. Also, please tell him that we need armaments but I shall be loaded for bear".

"Will do, ma'am and we shall pass that info to Agent Gibbs when he gets in - he is already under way and instructed us to contact you as the next name on the calling tree".

"Oh, and finally would you please invite Agent Gibbs to get the coffee brewing - I'm gonna need a bucketful".

"Got it ma'am"; the woman on the other end of the phone line was laughing as she terminated the call. Terri threw off her nightdress and headed for the bathroom, where Harm had already turned on the hot shower to save the minute which was normally needed for the water flow to warm up.

Feeling her crucifix around her neck, Terri offered up another quick prayer as she showered: " _Please God, let today be the day that we bring Faith Coleman safely home_ ".

When Terri reached the light of the kitchen 18 minutes later, with her damp hair pulled back into a ponytail and her face clear of make-up, Harm handed her an insulated cup with coffee and a small disposable pot with hot oatmeal together with a plastic spoon and some paper napkins. She sipped the coffee then clipped a lid over the oatmeal as she sat on a chair in the kitchen, slid on socks over her stockings and grabbed a pair of long boots.

"Harm, I expressed some milk for David last night and it is in the fridge; you may need formula for the rest of the day's feeds, honey" she advised, as she pulled on her boots and then zipped them up over thick, winter-weight stockings and socks. Even when concentrating on her FBI duties, Momma Teresa always multi-tasked to consider her children and their needs. She stood up, stamping her feet to shake everything into place. She then sat down to sip her coffee.

"Would you please pass me my weapon case, Harm?"

He smiled and reached behind him, lifting out the carry-case for her side-arm. "Not checked, so assume loaded and ready".

Harm and Terri had a standard protocol for weapons handling in the house; ordinarily, they would check each weapon on handover, but the urgency of securing Faith's recovery justified the odd shortcut and Harm had pulled the carry-case out of the locked weapons safe.

"Yes darling, I flipped on the safety and made it safe when I finished on the shooting range last night". Terri was a member of the FBI shooting team and had been on range duty on the Friday evening, passing the time as she was also the FBI Duty ME. "I reloaded everything into all four clips before I left the range, so apart from cleaning, she's ready to roar". Terri finished her first coffee then stood up, smoothed the creases out of her skirt and smiled at Harm as she pulled on her long coat and headed for the internal door which led through to the garage.

"Gotta run; thanks for breakfast. Love ya, Tomcat". She blew him a kiss, clipped her FBI credentials to her coat, crammed her _uschanka_ on her head and slid her cell-phone into her coat pocket. It would automatically link to the Bluetooth system in her vehicle. Harm waved across the hallway.

"Ditto - now go save our girl and bring her home safely, Terri".

"Will do, Harm. Could you remote-open the end garage door please and then lock up again and please look after our babies until I get back".

"With pleasure - be safe".

"Always - Bye Tomcat; I hope you don't get any calls as Duty JAG".

"Well darling, if I do I shall handle them. Now drive safe, warrior wife!"

Terri had brought an FBI vehicle home on the Friday evening, as she was Duty ME on call over the weekend. Using the garages meant that the cars were frost-free and ready to drive away instantly. Unlocking the Suburban as she walked into the garage, Terri dumped her weapon case and medical briefcase on the passenger seat and slotted the coffee and oatmeal into the dashboard. Firing up the engine, she rolled the Suburban quietly out onto the roadway before accelerating smoothly and switching on the emergency lights to clear her way through the quiet post-midnight streets to the Navy Yard.

 ** ** **Saturday 7th December** **2002 - 02:48hrs EST******

 **Main building entry CP, NCIS HQ, Washington DC**

" _FBI Agent Coulter-Tabb. Yes I am armed and no I don't have time_ " Terri had called out loudly to the guard as she entered the building with her FBI credentials held out in one hand and her medical briefcase in the other.

She barely remembered the drive from Nebraska Avenue to the Navy Yard, but the blue and red strobe lights of her FBI vehicle had cleared a path through the light traffic as she flew past Rock Creek and along the Potomac Highway - and had also alerted the Marine Guards at the Navy Yard that she was incoming. The coffee had been consumed, but she still had the cooling, congealing oatmeal in an evidence bag grabbed from the door-pocket of the Suburban and her weapons case in her left hand as she walked towards the metal detectors with her cases in her right hand.

The Marine guard was on the ball. " _Yes we know, Doc - you are expected and pre-cleared - the Russian Navy fur hat was also a give-away! Please head straight for the staircase; MTAC is open and ready for you_ ".

After briefing her by phone as she drove the nine miles from Nebraska Avenue across to NCIS HQ, Gibbs had pre-cleared Terri's rushed entrance and the overnight Marine Guard were not only ready for her but were holding open the doors. She lobbed a set of car keys to the guard: "I'm leaving my marked FBI Suburban - in the parking lot - please keep these keys safe and log them in for my return".

"With pleasure, ma'am. Go straight upstairs, ma'am; Jones, follow the Doc upstairs with this visitor pass and help her through the doors".

"Sure thing, Sarge".

Arriving on the MTAC floor after running into the building from the car park and taking the stairs two-at-a-time, Terri placed her medical bag and case on the floor, then reached into her weapons case and produced her mini hand-cannon as the briefing got under way. Gibbs stared, almost unbelievably, at the ugly grey weapon as she removed the magazine, checked the number of rounds with her thumb and then reinserted the magazine, chambering a round and setting the safety catch. As always, for safe weapons handling she kept the side-arm pointing at the floor and away from people.

"Looking for new business in the morgue, Doc? What is that, a Desert Eagle?" he asked, smiling as he closed the door of MTAC behind the last member of his team. Tim McGee was balancing a laptop and a cup of coffee as he settled at one of the briefing tables.

Terri returned his smile, with a serious look in her eyes. "Yep, my .44-calibre negotiatin' tool from Tennessee! Ya know, just occasionally things get quiet in Autopsy, so I need to drum up trade the old-fashioned Tennessee way!" They both laughed, before returning to serious matters.

Terri took over began the discussion, looking up at the concerned faces staring down at her (including USAF General Eileen Straker) on the video screens: "Gibbs, even though we now know that Faith Coleman is there and still alive, I expect that she will be, by now after this length of imprisonment, in quite a poor way - especially in psychological terms. If that bastard is true to form, she may also be pregnant, possibly with twins. So, standing instructions to our troops will be: **_we want him alive to face trial but, far more importantly, we need to keep Faith alive. To be clear - we *CANNOT* be allowed to lose her at this late stage after her brave effort to make contact with us_** \- if we absolutely, no-other-way-to-save-Faith, have to take him out, we take him out with extreme prejudice."

Grimly, she stated her case: "But I really, truly, _every-bone-in-my-body_ want this bastard alive to stand trial for what he did to all those poor women - agreed?"

"Hell yeah, Doc - and just so you know, I just want you alongside me (or in front, hell I don't care!) when you open fire with that cannon. I reckon that Tobias Fornell will be spitting teeth when he gets back from his vacation with Emily and her mother to find that he has missed this excitement".

"OK Gibbs, that's a deal - you have my back! Now, I need a ballistic vest to go under my FBI windcheater until my FBI helo arrives - please?"

"Of course Doc - McGee, round up a vest for the doctor".

"On it, Boss" came the traditional response.

"And now we wait for transport".

Terri and the grey .44-calibre Desert Eagle walked back to the desk that she had been allocated whilst in NCIS HQ. She expertly field-stripped it, as a way of distracting herself from chewing up adrenaline. As she re-assembled the weapon and checked the underslung Maglite torch, DiNozzo looked up at the handgun. "Wow, can that carry enough rounds, Doc?"

Terri smiled wolfishly as she answered: "Magazine capacity is 9 rounds in .357 Magnum, 8 rounds in .44 Magnum, and 7 rounds in .50 Action Express. Trust me, DiNosey, I can do all the damage that I need to inflict with my eight .44-calibre rounds, without reloading - I'm a Tennessee girl, so I tend to hit what I aim at and I avoided the .50-cal because I want to leave something identifiable". She smiled cheerfully and Di Nozzo chose, wisely, not to ask further.

Terri continued: "But don't worry, because I always carry a few spare clips". Pulling out a lanyard from her gun case, she clipped it to the accessory rail and was then ready to hang the lanyard around her neck. Terri liked the British approach to pistols from the previous century, where a pistol falling out of the officer's hand would, instead of being dropped on the battlefield mud, still remain attached to its user, permitting swift retrieval in the heat of battle.

DI Nozzo reached back into his desk: "Well doc, would this help?" He produced a shoulder holster.

Terri looked down at her chest, then back up and gazed across to DiNozzo: "A shoulder-holster? Really - with these girls?" She was still occasionally expressing milk for David's night-time feeds, some six months on from his birth.

Nevertheless, Tony persevered: "Look Doc, you'll be jumping out of a helo and that shoulder-holster gives you easier movement without your jacket flapping and impeding your arm movements around a waist-holster; it could save you two seconds as you straighten up on leaving the helo".

"Good thinking! You know, DiNozzo, you are not as daft as you look. Thank you, please show me how this shoulder-holster fits and adjusts". Terri flashed him a huge smile and reached out her hand for the shoulder holster as she shrugged off her FBI windcheater and gratefully accepted the plain black ballistic vest from Tim McGee. He had wisely brought two, in differing sizes. She pulled an "FBI" ident flap from her briefcase and stuck it onto the Velcro mounting strips on the front of the vest: Agent Coulter-Rabb of the FBI was now identifiable.

Wisely, Tony decided to accept the back-handed compliment. Four minutes later, Terri was outfitted with Tony's shoulder-holster over her ballistic vest and, with the Desert Eagle safely and securely stowed inside her FBI jacket, she was ready for action as the team rushed for the helipad. As she moved, she found that the shoulder-holster actually fitted her female form quite effectively, so perhaps DiNozzo's contribution was more valuable than she had originally thought - she had been on the point of dismissing his idea out of hand. She adjusted the lanyard that was looped around her neck - there was no way that she would be parting company with her Desert Eagle tonight.

The FBI helicopter had already set off from Quantico and had then been tasked direct to West Virginia. There was a reason for this re-direction. Before its departure from Quantico, good fortune had smiled upon the NCIS team when Gibbs had enquired, speculatively, calling in a favour from the Commandant of Marines. This had produced the availability of an MV-22 Osprey, on a routine night proving exercise from VMMT-204; the rotor-craft was tasked to the Navy Yard, touched down at NCIS HQ, uplifted Terri, Gibbs, McGee and Dinozzo, then headed out into the former "Coal Country".

The distance was not an issue for the Osprey - with a 1,000-nm range, the fully-fuelled Osprey could spend most of the coming day shuttling between DC and the target site in WV without declaring "bingo" fuel. Crucially, its major USP was its airspeed - whilst it could also knock spots off the FBI helo in terms of range and payload, the MV-22 would also prove tonight that it could massively outgun the helo in the matter of (above all other considerations for tonight) sheer speed over the ground.

On the legal side, Terri had called Harm (in his capacity as Duty JAG) before take-off for a 20-second discussion about " _Posse Comitatus_ " considerations; the matter was swiftly dispatched with a simple answer: " **Later** ". Harm took ownership of the intellectual debate, relying on the fact that " _exigent circumstances_ " would overcome any potential objections (plus, he reasoned, the case would be settled - with Faith's successful recovery - before any " _legal weanies_ " in DC had even woken up to cause problems!).

As Harm put it so eloquently as he wrapped up the short debate: " _If we can bring Faith Coleman safely home tonight - and I mean *when* we bring her home of course - who would object to our methods?_ " Terri (and Gibbs) saw no reason to argue with the duty JAG.

By 03:24hrs (less than two hours after Faith Coleman's call had been received), both the FBI and the NCIS teams were airborne, en-route to West Virginia and the rescue of Faith Coleman. Up above the site, the F/A-18 was still on station, transmitting data from 5,000 feet as it awaited the next KC-135 flying gas-station to extend its loiter time as it flew in steady loops around the designated target site. Inside the Osprey, everyone was quietly considering their own thoughts; the plan was ready and only needed to be updated with on-the-ground data once they had landed in WV.

Terri checked her weapon one more time, then looked across at Gibbs; the NCIS agent was asleep, in accordance with the mantra of the serviceman - " _sleep when you can_ ". Despite her worry for Faith Coleman's well-being, Terri also found herself nodding off as the Osprey carved smoothly and swiftly through the night-time air.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 13 -** **"Race into darkness"** **(part 23)**


	14. Rescue and Recovery : Finding Faith

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 14 - part 24)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Do please feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful, invited and welcomed.

 **A/N:** Ch 14; Terri, NCIS and the FBI home in to recover Faith Coleman - continuing the XO into "NCIS" territory. We rise from Faith's darkness at the end of Ch13 and bring her back to the light. Terri gets to excel both as an FBI agent and as an ME (and Harm's wife, and successful mom...)

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Phase Fourteen of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Rescue and Recovery"**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 14 - Part 24 - "Rescue and Recovery".**

 **Saturday 7th December 2002 - 04:56rs EST**

 **Coal River Collieries site, Rumble, Boone County, WV 25009.**

After accelerating hard following lift-off, the MV-22 Osprey (" _flying its rivets off_ " to quote the aircraft commander) hogged 310MPH once it had transitioned from vertical lift into full forward flight and had dispatched the 390 miles from the Navy Yard in a little over one hour and 20 minutes, arriving on station at 04:55hrs. Terri had found the distinctive "double-beat" rhythm of the rotors strangely comforting during the flight, despite the protective ear-defenders built into her "cranial" helmet. The pressure of the head protection reinforced her earlier decision to pull her hair into a flat ponytail clipped together with a hair-slide before she had left the NCIS building to begin boarding.

Passing over Harrisonburg and the Shenandoah National Park, looking down on the darkness of the Monongahela National Forest, Terri reflected on the good fortune that had enabled Faith to get hold of a cell-phone to make contact with NCIS. Without this piece of luck, Terri had little doubt that, at some future date, she would have been carrying out an autopsy on the thawed-out frozen remains of the unfortunate Commander Faith Marie Coleman - and probably another pair of dead babies as well.

The higher airspeed of the Osprey meant that it was on station above the circle of police cars around the mineshaft in West Virginia far ahead of the FBI helo crew and their ETA. By comparison, the standard FBI helicopter was on track to hit an ETA on scene at 05:19hrs.

A pair of burning red road-flares marked the centre of the open space alongside the mineshaft, a little way apart from the flashing lights of the police vehicles. From 800 feet, the Osprey's external illuminations pack lit up three football-pitches-worth of real estate with light levels better than broad daylight, as the Osprey's drivers slowed their headlong cross-country dash, transitioned into vertical flight/hover, selected their ideal landing spot and eased down, settling the landing gear safely onto _terra firma_.

As the Rolls-Royce AE1107C engines of the Osprey wound down and the massive rotors ceased slapping the air around them, the silence in the West Virginia countryside was almost total, disturbed only by the low murmurings of the gathering teams of law enforcement, determined to save this captured Naval officer and bring her home. When instructed, Terri unbuckled her seat harness and stood up. She had already decided that, given a choice of hopping down the steps of the starboard door behind the cockpit or exiting via the tail ramp, she would choose to head aft, removing her cranial ready to hand to the crew member. Patting her hair back into shape, she decided that her choice of exit route had been correct - walking down the rear ramp of the Osprey was so much easier than hopping out of the side of a bog-standard helo.

She patted the airframe of the Osprey as she left. Noticing her gesture, the crew chief grinned at her; "Nice ride, thanks Chief; I have left my medical bags on the seats for later retrieval".

"My pleasure ma'am; we have picked up on a rumour about what you are doing here and hence the all-fired rush to get here from DC; go get our girl back, ma'am".

"Thanks Chief"; we may need you for the ride home".

"We'll be here and ready to serve, ma'am; I'll lay out the medevac stretcher and kit just in case, but will pray that we won't need it. There is a good Trauma Centre in Charleston - about ten miles away, northwest from here on the far side of the Kanawha River and the pilots have a route and landing ground already sorted, just one block from the ER entrance".

"Thanks Chief; it is good to know that you guys are prepared as we go in for the rescue".

As always, the various branches of military and law enforcement meshed together in a crisis, aiming for the best outcome of their combined mission.

Dawn would break at 07:01hrs, with sunrise around 07:30; this meant that infra-red scopes and image intensifiers would be the "kit of the day" for the next two hours. Fortunately Tim "techno-geek" McGee had brought his toy-box.

The first local law enforcement agents on the ground some time earlier had tried to stop, then opened fire at the tyres of, a speeding SUV as it tried to reach the shaft-head block, 100 yards away from the main office block of the abandoned mine. Breaking out the shotguns from the patrol vehicles (only in later years would law enforcement start to look like a branch of the military in terms of equipment and firepower), they then formed a cordon, illuminating the target building with the headlamps of their vehicles and hand-held torches. The illumination enabled them to keep the suspect corralled in the office block and separated from the shaft-head building, unable to access any other buildings on the sprawling abandoned site (and crucially unable to reach Faith in her prison). By the time that Terri, Gibbs and their colleagues touched down, there was a near-silence across the site but the air was heavy with expectation.

Up above in the distance, the muted roar of the USMC F/A-18 echoed across the site as it engaged in another circular sweep of the area, monitoring and transmitting the data back to Quantico and the Navy Yard - and thence to Tim McGee's laptop. The military technology of the "integrated battlefield" was paying back a civilian dividend this night.

Tim McGee also applied modern technology as he surveyed the site. He used a thermal imaging camera which quickly picked up two heat sources. One heat source looked like a pregnant female standing inside the building above the cold air of the mineshaft (protected by an outer structure above the mineshaft), while the other was crouching in the old office block next door (thus separated from the old office block by a patch of weed-strewn bare ground across which agents had a view and a clear field of fire) and looked to be male.

The steady beat of the rotors on the approaching FBI helicopter grew louder in the distance as it approached the LZ. Terri spoke up, her FBI windcheater reflecting in the low light.

"OK, listen up. Because this is an FBI jurisdiction show, I and my colleagues (when they arrive on that helo from Quantico) will take out the arsehole first; ideally, I want this bastard alive * _if at all possible_ *, to answer for his crimes in court. My call-sign will be 'Doc One'; the other FBI Agents (when they arrive) will be numbered as 'HRT One', 'HRT Two' etc. After we have him detained, NCIS will please support HRT as they locate, extract and comfort Faith - go bring our Navy girl home but remember she will probably be fragile, traumatised and she could also be heavily pregnant with twins if this bastard has done his usual number on her as he has previously on at least 14 other defenceless women - all of whom he subsequently murdered. I can see the EMTs are ready, out on the edge of the restricted zone - be prepared to call them in once the area is declared safe".

In the background, the engine sound of the FBI helicopter was winding down. Jogging across to the LZ, Terri was glad that she had exercised hard since giving birth to David in the summer; her re-sculpted muscles were getting a good workout as she ran around the edge of the site to hook up with the FBI HRT members and agree the action plan. Halfway back, on her run from the HRT helo to rejoin the NCIS assets at the mineshaft, she pulled her cross out from beneath the ballistic vest.

She put her hands together around her cross and offered up a three-second prayer, then opened her eyes once more - they were cold, dark, hard and determined.

She knelt down alongside Gibbs: "OK, HRT is ready to roll. So, let's make one announcement first, to get Faith's attention - I reckon that she would prefer to hear a woman's voice" said Terri.

"Heck yes, Doc". Gibbs handed her the loud-hailer and she nodded her thanks before turning to face the buildings, some 100 yards away.

She picked up the microphone. " _Faith Coleman, Faith Coleman, Commander Faith Coleman; this is Doctor Teresa Coulter-Rabb and the rest of the FBI together with an NCIS team"_ She looked at Gibbs and shrugged: "No harm in letting the arsehole know who he is up against, hey?" Gibbs nodded.

 _"Faith Coleman - we are here and outside and we have separated you from the bad guy, ready for NCIS to rescue you once we have the bad guy contained. But Faith, I need you to stand up and walk around so that we can confirm that it is you on the thermal imaging camera; please stand up and walk around now for our thermal cameras_ ".

They watched Tim's screen; to their joy, the pregnant female image stood up, walked around and then sat down again.

" _OK Faith, that was good; we watched you and we know exactly where you are; stay still and let us keep you safe please. We can now protect you and we have you physically separated from the bad guy, so hold fast Commander and just wait ten or so more minutes_ ". Terri hoped that some of Faith's naval discipline would have remained in the tormented woman's mind. Jogging across from the second helicopter came the FBI team who would back up Terri in the raid on the building where the UNSUB was holed-up.

She looked at Gibbs: "OK, let's get this arsehole under control; he's British, right? So he will understand the expression " _Cry havoc and unleash the hounds of hell_ ".

McGee piped up: "Hmm, isn't it _cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war_ , Doc?"

"Good point Tim. Well-remembered from your Shakespeare classes. Darn, I left the dogs behind." Terri smiled ruefully, easing the tension that she felt at being so close to rescuing the long-absent Faith Coleman.

Gibbs looked at her askance. "OK Doc, but how about tear gas, stun grenades and a couple of rounds through the roof instead?"

Terri shrugged, then smiled as she pointed at the mineshaft office block: "I like the way that you're thinking, Agent Gibbs and we have all of those here from the HRT helo - one step short of sending in the Marines! So yes, that would work too - let's wake him up properly and put him in fear, then make him keep his head down." She paused and turned her steady gaze once more upon Gibbs: "But please remember that you hit *HIS* building, not our Faith's!"

Gibbs smiled in the pale grey light of the headlamps behind them and nodded. "Doc, when it comes to opening fire, I am happy to give way to ' _ladies first_ ', so I shall follow you and your Desert Eagle".

"Why thank you, kind sir! It will take the FBI crew a while to bring me my standard-issue SIG, so I am glad that I came prepared".

It took five long, precious minutes to arrange the FBI team for the tear-gas strike and for everyone to take up positions, checking fields of fire to ensure that there was no risk of an embarrassing "Blue on Blue" situation. The lead member of the FBI team from the helo handed Terri a standard holstered P226 SIG-Sauer 9mm pistol and a throat-mike radio system on a webbing belt which bore four spare clips for the SIG.

Terri popped in her ear-piece and ran a radio check (hooking up with the rest of the FBI crew), buckled the webbing belt around her waist, then retrieved her Desert Eagle from its shoulder-holster with a wolfish grin. "I'm sticking to local initiative tonight - makes it easier to trace the rounds afterwards".

The lead agent from the HRT crew, a tall brunette carrying a sniper rifle, smiled at Terri's choice of weapon, " _OK Boss, you're the senior agent on site; by the way we have cameras with us_ ". Terri recalled, with a groan, that the post-9/11 media blitz to explain security to the great American Public (and explain *why* sometimes security considerations took precedence over " _mah gawd-given freeedums under that Consteetyoooshun-thang_ ") had resulted in the FBI bosses approving a number of camera-toting "ride-along" missions to explain the post-9/11 world to the American public. That night, the cameras had been at Quantico with the HRT when Terri's call came in, with the result that the camera team had been scrambled and uplifted with the HRT helo.

Terri swore under her breath and then carried on regardless. They crouched down, once more surveying the site in front of them as the five minutes counted down.

Finally, Terri stood up and waved at the FBI teargas team to get them ready. As senior FBI agent on site, the "honour" of first shot fell to her. She keyed her throat-mike to alert her team.

"This is Doc One; I have the first shot; HRT Two, be ready with the teargas on my mark, followed by stun grenades as the teargas shells enter the building - and hit the correct building please!".

Terri raised her Desert Eagle handgun and put two rounds through the upper windows of the former office block. It felt satisfying to be in action, after the ten-month search for Faith Coleman and the horrors of the repetitive autopsies on this madman's defenceless victims. She then put a round each through the ground floor windows, either side of the front door, aiming into the ceilings in each case and shattering the panes of glass. Her rounds were targeted at the cross-piece of the window frames, aiming to cover the UNSub in a shower of glass shards which would hopefully encourage him to keep his head down. She reasoned that only an really (un)lucky ricochet would hit the UNSub. She badly wanted this animal alive. She clicked on the safety catch on her Desert Eagle and surveyed the scene in front of her.

Crouched behind her, DiNozzo had counted Terri's outgoing rounds and thought quietly to himself "do I need to tell her she now has only three rounds left?"

Looking down at him as though she was reading his thoughts, Terri ejected the part-used magazine (leaving one live round chambered in the weapon), reached down beneath the hem of her skirt, produced another magazine that had been tucked into the top of her knee-length left boot, slammed the magazine home and smiled down at him as she clicked off the safety catch and concentrated on the building in front of her, absent-mindedly tucking the part-used magazine into the top of her right boot.

She looked back down at DiNozzo again and whispered " _Old Tennessee cowgirl trick_ " as she resumed her watchful pose once more. Then she keyed her throat mike: "This is Doc One; _Mark_ ".

The distinctive "chuff" of the FBI teargas grenade launchers added to the cacophony of sound as they lobbed canisters through the broken windows. The noise faded away as the building filled up with white smoke and then began to bleed smoke into the outside air, where it rose almost-vertically in the light wind; fortunately everyone was carefully positioned upwind of the office block (apart from two snipers, wearing gas masks, who were situated high up above the rear of the building with the imminent light of dawn behind them, guarding against any escape by the UNSub). The stun grenades followed just five seconds later into each shattered window aperture, lighting up the inside rooms of the building in near-daylight briefly (and giving the ride-along camera crew several great shots for the resulting documentary).

Almost a minute passed, before - finally and to everyone's delight - the sound of coughing started inside the building. "Hmm, was that the extra-high strength stuff, I wonder?" mused Terri as she continued to watch the building.

"Oh dear, it sounds like he's choking"; Gibbs and Terri exchanged a "high-five" handclasp then aimed their weapons once more at the building, 100yards away across open ground.

The outcome was never in doubt and eventually the UNSub finally appeared, a pistol in his hand and with his eyes streaming; several voices spoke up, challenging him to drop the weapon. Instead he decided, for some inexplicable reason (in the post-mission wash-up session, they realised that the poor sod had been deafened by four exploding stun grenades in close proximity and couldn't hear very well!), to make Terri Coulter's day and he ran straight at her - the only identifiable female in his blurred field of view, because she was wearing a light-coloured skirt below her dark FBI windcheater.

With six FBI agents to choose from, he had decided to run at Terri. What a mistake to make!

Terri's smile grew wider as she released the safety catch on her weapon - later, Gibbs would be heard describing it as " _this great big, cheerful shit-eating grin right across her face as though Christmas, her birthday and wedding anniversary presents had all come at once - until you focussed on her teeth and looked into her eyes to see her steely determination - which this idiot UNSub failed to do. He just ran straight at her, probably because she was a woman and he thought he could intimidate her; oh boy, was he wrong!"_

" _If he wants suicide by cop, he is going to be disappointed_ ", Terri shouted, then continued: " _OK folks, this bastard is MINE - DOC ONE has the shot_ " she shouted, raising her Desert Eagle in a stable, two-handed grip. Even then, the UNSub foolishly decided to continue running at Terri; she put her first round skilfully into his left foot bringing him to his knees; as he reached out for his dropped handgun with searchlights illuminating him, her second round removed his two outer fingers at the knuckles.

"Silly boy, tryin' to out-shoot a Tennessee girl" she chuckled as she closed the distance. Walking up to him with her weapon raised, she kicked his weapon far out of reach of his shattered hand and pressed him flat onto his back with the toe of her boot. She then she lifted her right leg and placed the three-inch block heel of her boot onto his chest, with the whole weight of a seriously pissed-off Terri Coulter-Rabb behind it; "I really wouldn't advise you to try any harder, sir - or try looking up my skirt, you pervert!"

" _Why not 'off' him, Doc?_ " came a voice over Terri's shoulder.

Surrounded by armed FBI agents who were all pointing their weapons (of various calibres) at the UNSub on the ground, Terri applied the safety catch and holstered her Desert Eagle before replying, painfully conscious of the TV camera nearby.

" **Because I carried out six autopsies and assisted in eight more, on women whom this arsehole had taken, tortured, impregnated, left in terror to swell for around six months and then killed. I have wasted almost a year of my life, lost a Christmas day with my husband and my child and had a pregnancy inconvenienced and my life disrupted because of this creep.**

 **"So, ideally - as a woman - I would want him kicked to death every day for the rest of all time, then brought back to life at dawn to face it all over again. However, I am a realist and an FBI agent, who believes in the law and due process, so I shall settle for life imprisonment with the FBI probing him and examining him to see what makes him tick. He is going to become a prize exhibit for examination and study** ".

She paused before continuing.

 **"I cannot bring those 14 poor dead women back, despite spending almost two months of my life, bent over four autopsy tables at a time whilst I was three to five months pregnant. Although I learned everything about the shameful way in which they died, our society needs to try and learn from this pervert, so we should capture him alive".**

She smiled once more: **"Plus, if I did give in to temptation and 'off' him as you so descriptively phrased it, any ME worth his or her salt would be able to determine that this bastard was shot whilst lying flat on his back - and that would seriously damage my resume! So I cannot really shoot him, but...** ** _Oh screw it_** **".**

She leaned in slightly harder, applying all her weight through her boot heel and heard the satisfying 'snap" as a rib broke beneath her boot heel; the criminal in the ground beneath her screamed out in pain, then looked up into her eyes, fear etched into his face. That expression of fear was, Terri surmised, something he had triggered in every one of his victim, probably from the moment she woke up chained until the day that he had chosen to deliberately snuff out her life - and that of the twins that each woman had been carrying as part of his sick, twisted, shameful plot.

Looking down at the man beneath her heel, Terri realised that, by injecting his poison into the shaved spot on the back of each victim's neck, he had even avoided having to look into each woman's eyes as her life had expired; this man was a coward.

She looked down into his fearful eyes; "It's a shame that you don't have enough ribs to atone for the total number of your innocent victims and their entirely blameless foetuses".

She lifted her foot and stepped back, staggering slightly as her heel landed on a pebble beneath her. Terri swayed but stayed upright; Gibbs caught her, smiled and said loudly "Hey Doc, watch it - this pervert must have bust a rib when he fell on that stone before; shame that you caught that same spot with your heel when you stumbled" as he smiled, nodding into the dark in the direction of the TV cameras.

"Oh yes, a great shame - thanks for that diagnosis Gibbs", Terri replied, smiling as she turned her back on the criminal as her FBI colleagues closed into formally take him into custody. She turned to the NCIS team, and nodded to Gibbs as he leaned down to brush away the grit which had transferred from her boot-heel onto the captive UNSub's jacket.

She turned once more to address the agents who were eagerly awaiting her signal.

"Right team, let's go rescue a very brave naval lady: I'll watch you from the command tent. Once more, her name is Commander Faith Coleman and please remember that she may be quite badly traumatised - so, at the first sign of her flinching from a man, would all gentlemen please hold back, turn back and allow the female agents in the first wave of the breaching team to take point, please".

She paused; "In fact - on second thoughts, it would be preferable for us ladies exclusively to help our kidnapped heroine - that is just the way things are tonight - OK gentlemen?".

Nods and grunts of male agreement filled the night-time air. Terri was glad to have a large gang backing her up; but "bagging" the UNSub at first strike had significantly improved the likelihood of a successful outcome to all of the night's endeavours. It was time to move in and rescue Faith.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 _"Commander Faith Coleman - we are here, the bad guy is in custody and we are coming in to rescue you"._

Entering the other building (and rapidly shooting or cutting their way through three separate locked doors), the rescue teams were guided by Tim McGee's thermal imaging directions; they quickly located and reassured a heavily-pregnant Faith Coleman as they announced themselves to her. She was dirty, dishevelled and still shackled; although the bolt cutters (which the breaching team had brought with them) quickly released her neck and arms from the chains, the welded collar and the solid wrist-cuffs would take longer. With a rapidly closing bruised eye from her last encounter with her angry captor (presumably over the cell-phone incident earlier that night), Faith's one good eye looked at the incoming team as she blinked at the light of the doorway.

In the FBI Command Post tent - which had been set up by the FBI helo crew as the breaching teams went in - Terri watched the body-cam footage.

The FBI team were trialling newer HD camera technology - apart from sharper images, the cameras transmitted the individual FBI agent's identity on each frame. The open door offered a promise of a glimpse of the searchlights outside, as Terri watched her agents walk into Faith's version of Hell - the site was still awaiting the low winter sunlight of dawn.

As "agent 03" moved into Faith's room, Terri asked the Comms team leader to instruct that agent to give a view of the floor, ahead and left. Leaning in towards the video screen, Terri noticed the shattered remains of a cell-phone - she offered up a quick prayer of thanks as she watched the female EMTs gathering around Faith as the FBI team took up safety positions around the room - merely a precaution, literally, but SOP after breaching an UNSub's lair and a necessary precaution given the importance of keeping Faith secure and safe from further harm.

The EMTs worked on Faith Coleman for almost an hour before they agreed to start bringing her out. They had checked her thoroughly, examining her body, checking her pregnancy (no-one mentioned the word "twins" to her at that stage) and attending to the cuts on her feet and the recent impact to her face, before getting her ready to be brought out towards the waiting ambulance - and her friends who had been awaiting her return for almost a year. Loaded with evidence bags, the FBI evidence techs began sweeping the room, gathering up the shattered components of the cell-phone which had summoned help and which had almost certainly saved Faith's life.

Gibbs walked back across the site to Terri's Command Tent and smiled at her: "Hell of a way to commemorate Pearl Harbour, hey Doc?"

"Yeah Gibbs, helluva *great* way"...

 **Saturday 7th December 2002 - 07:16rs EST**

 **Coal River Collieries site, Rumble, Boone County, WV 25009.**

Someone had loaned Faith a pair of combat boots and laced them up, to protect the soles of her feet as she was supported on her walk out of hell. An NCIS hooded sweater had been handed to her and she had pulled it on over the white nightdress which hid her nakedness. The open outer door led Faith towards the cold grey light of dawn as Terri left the FBI command tent and walked steadily towards Faith's version of Hell - the site was still awaiting the low winter sunlight as the EMT ambulance rolled forward. With a badly-bruised eye limiting her field of vision, Faith's one good eye sought out Teresa as she blinked, owlishly, at the electric light in the doorway and the high-mounted flood-lights which had been erected by the local agencies as they continued to arrive onsite.

Terri walked over towards Faith with her arms open wide; the two women met halfway. Faith flung her arms around Teresa and kissed her, then began to weep; the crescendo built to a climax and then suddenly Faith let rip with a full-blooded, anguished howl - releasing much of her pent-up anger, fear and frustration - before she slumped, spent and over-wrought, into Terri's arms; Terri beckoned over the EMT techs who had been standing by in case of a relapse once Faith had reached the fresh air for the first time in around 10 months. The air temperature probably wasn't helping either, Terri surmised.

Eyes full of happy tears, she looked up at Gibbs as she continued to support Faith as the EMTs gathered. "This is a good day, Gibbs - isn't it?" she asked.

He nodded, with a great big happy grin of satisfaction. "Oh yeah, Doc lady, this is gonna be a *very* good day. Plus, you now know - for sure - that you will be able to present all of that detailed evidence in a court of law, which is what you do well and what we know will bring justice for all that bastard's victims along with closure for their families". His grin broke into a full-beam smile: "So yeah, Doc, this is a *very* good day".

Peering into the grey light of dawn, Terri looked around at the landscape surrounding the mineshaft.

"Gibbs; I almost hesitate to suggest this, but as we are here and it is his wild-country lair, should we get cadaver dogs and ground-penetrating radar out here - just to be certain and get closure?"

He nodded. "Actually Doc, those were also my thoughts exactly although this is - technically - your FBI operation (' _Doc One_ ') with an NCIS joint-op tacked on for good measure because we had a lost Naval Lady to locate and recover. Look Doc, if you go with Commander Coleman to the hospital and you please concentrate on her (because I am sure she will benefit from seeing a continuing familiar face amongst all these well-meaning strangers), I'll liaise with your FBI HRT colleagues to get a mines rescue team up here, to check out the mine-shaft as well".

He patted her shoulder and whispered in her ear: "Doc, you go and tend to the living on this resurrection morning; we have this site under control".

Terri reached up her hand and patted Gibbs on the wrist gratefully, acknowledging the wisdom of the older agent's suggestion. How did the world produce such great men like Leroy Jethro Gibbs, she wondered to herself before turning so that she could re-start concentrating once more on Faith Coleman.

Gibbs strode off to make the arrangements, whilst Terri trudged slowly across to where Faith was now being looked after by the EMTs on the step of the ambulance. She held back, allowing the EMTs to do their job; she was pleased to note that someone had thoughtfully provided Faith with an aluminium survival blanket which she now gripped around her shoulders.

She held back, until the EMT finished checking Faith again with the better equipment (and lighting) in the EMS ambulance, looked across to Terri and raised her thumb; Terri quickly stepped forward.

As Terri approached, Faith looked up at her; the tears were beginning to wash away the grime. Terri realised, perhaps for the first time, that Faith Coleman had a strong face and was quite an attractive woman despite the swelling bruise which was rapidly impeding and reducing the vision out of one eye. Faith's Navy id photograph didn't really do her justice, but that had been the only picture (apart from blurred CCTV stills) which Terri had possessed during the long search for Faith; Faith had jealously guarded her privacy before her abduction, which had made the task of finding photographs for the search very difficult. Faith's hair had also grown significantly longer during her ten-month captivity.

Terri stretched out her right hand to shake hands; Faith's wrist still had the cuff welded around her arm. Faith was hugging her swollen stomach with her left hand; Terri placed a comforting hand over Faith's hand and nodded at Faith's stomach.

"I was in that condition a year ago with my second pregnancy; I guess your customary slim shape is feeling seriously out of balance with your twins at this stage?" Terri said comfortingly.

Faith's face collapsed into another expression of terror and disgust: " _TWINS?_ How in the hell do you know that?" Realisation suddenly dawned and she slumped slightly. "Oh God, it really *was* _UNSub94_ , wasn't it?"

Terri nodded: Faith's face crumbled and she sat bolt upright, hands apart and looking in terror at her swollen belly. "I could have ended three lives back in that hell-hole!"

Faith slowly slumped onto Terri's shoulder, weeping. "How in the hell can I hate these innocent lives inside me, but by the same token how can I bring them into this world to remind me every day of what was done to me and how I had absolutely *no* control over it?" She pulled her hair back from her face and looked at Terri's long blonde hair, neatly gathered back with a barrette at her neck. Suddenly she smiled - a rare flash of the old Faith Coleman.

"I don't suppose that you have a spare hair grip, do you Doctor? I feel a need to look a little more feminine".

Terri jumped at the chance to assist Faith in regaining a little bit more of her control over the world around her - distancing the terrified female JAG officer from the memories of what had been done to her - and restoring some basic femininity. It was also clear to Terri, just on the basis of the first few minutes, that Faith was going to need long-term and extensive help to get over this experience. Maybe, her OCD would be an even bigger barrier than was the case for other kidnap victims after their rescue; Faith's routine-based, well-ordered life had been completely turned upside down. She sighed - only time (and the right professional help) would tell.

"Better than that, Faith, I have a hair brush and a spare barrette. _Agent Barnes, kindly go over to that Osprey and retrieve my briefcase and medical bag from the Crew Chief - I left them together on the right-hand seats, halfway along the fuselage, with a small teddy-bear attached to the handle; thank you_. Well, Faith - I really want to call you Faith, because we have been looking for you for a really long time. Would that be OK?"

Faith nodded, weakly. Terri hugged her again.

"Thank you. OK, come on, Faith. Come on, scoot around a bit and I'll brush your hair for you - then you can see in the mirror; would that be OK for you?" Faith nodded slowly: Terri looked enquiringly at the female EMT who had been carrying out the preliminary survivor check on Faith. The EMT smiled warmly and vacated the step, allowing Faith to shuffle round to allow Terri to brush her hair once the brush had arrived. They didn't have to wait very long - Agent Barnes was back with Terri's bags within five minutes.

Faith nodded slightly; Terri set to work and, within five minutes, Faith was sporting a new hairstyle which swept her hair (which Terri noted was a lot more uncontrolled than when Faith had been snatched way back in February) into a stylish (and potentially military-approved) pony-tail style.

Terri chose not to mention the shaved patch which she had found on the back of Faith's neck - she had felt it when she hugged Faith - then had shuddered quietly; this had been too damn' close to disaster, finding Faith so late. Clearly, the UNSub had been preparing Faith for slaughter. Wow, they had been so lucky to find her today!

Faith looked in the hand-held mirror of Terri's powder compact, winced at the bruising, then smiled at the impromptu hairstyle. "I love it - thanks for the barrette, which I definitely *will* get back to you in due course".

Terri patted her hand, inadvertently touching the "wedding" ring. She realised that, above all else, it was Faith's feeling of loss of control that was probably proving to be most upsetting to the rescued female JAG at the moment. Other concerns would undoubtedly be added to the list in the days and weeks to come. For now, Faith had just one more question for Terri.

"Terri, who will look after my babies when they are born? Will I have recovered enough to look after them, do you think?"

"Yes Faith, that is a question for tomorrow. Now, I know a good team who will support you and all I can say, today, is: take it day-by-day. But I will, _if you want_ , be with you every day when I visit you whilst you recover; I'll make that commitment, although other, better-qualified, professionals are going to appear in your lives as we step back to give them room - be we shall be around and I promise we'll always be available. However please, from now onwards to the end of our days, I want you to call me Terri whenever we speak".

Faith reached out to Terri, then noticed the wedding ring on her outstretched left hand. She looked down at it, splaying her fingers to look at it. "I began to call it my ' _slave band_ ', because I woke up with this in place on my finger one day during my captivity and I cannot get the damn' thing off. That's another thing that bastard stole from me - I don't remember the honeymoon after the wedding!" even through her tears, Faith managed a smile. Terri hugged her carefully, kissing the top of Faith's head to comfort the tormented rescued kidnap victim.

Terri realised that there was a warmth and humour in the freckled face before her, which had never been evident in the formal, official pictures of the buttoned-down ("buttoned-up as well", thought Terri) Naval JAG officer before she had been taken by UNSub94. Maybe, just maybe, the true spirit of Faith would re-emerge, butterfly-like, following the appalling experience. That was certainly Terri's aim and intent - and Vera McCool's team of psychologists would play a major part in that process.

Terri sighed quietly to herself as she watched Faith's tense body slowly unwind. Whichever way you looked at it, Faith Coleman was going to need a *lot* of help as she recovered from this hellish experience; Terri was determined to ensure that Faith received all of that help.

"Well, Faith; it's not impossible that your fingers are swollen because of the pregnancy - I certainly felt my rings were slightly more snug when I was carrying Ellen during the first pregnancy".

Faith's eyes suddenly went wide and she looked at Terri's slim, trim, stomach inside the ballistic vest. "Oh Terri, I must have missed the birth of your second whilst I've been in the bunker. How did everything go?"

Grateful that Faith was beginning to think (even for a short time) about normal day-to-day things unconnected to her long captivity, Terri began to explain about their new son, backing up the distraction with a small album of photographs of David from her briefcase which Agent Barnes of her team had retrieved from the Osprey. The two women sat on the step of the ambulance for a while, completely and blissfully unaware of the investigation activities which were going on around them.

Eventually, Faith gave a big sigh, looked out at the building which had imprisoned her for too long and then stared, once more, at her baby-swollen stomach. Terri could read her mind all too easily. She patted Faith's hand; "Come on Faith, I reckon I know a great divorce lawyer." She hugged Faith close, but then Faith's tears started again.

In all the commotion and movement, Terri's small cross had worked its way up to the front of her sweater and out over the front of her ballistic vest, nestling just above the "B" of "FBI". Faith's finger reached out for the cross. Terri was the only person close enough to hear when Faith whispered: " _I said a prayer last night, so thank you God_ " and burst once more into tears.

At that precise moment, the first beam of the morning sunlight fell upon the two women seated on the step of the ambulance. As Terri held her and comforted her, Faith slipped down slightly to rest her head under Terri's chin, her right hand hugging Terri's arm and her left (displaying her captor's "wedding" ring and the cruel iron cuff on her wrist) touching the cross outside Terri's armoured vest.

As it turned out, that was the " _money shot_ " for the female news photographer who had sneaked through police lines dressed as an EMT. In future years, the photograph (admittedly without its tacky " _Rescued from Hell: the imprisoned pregnant Naval officer is recovered by FBI doctor_ " caption which would flood around the world in the next 24 hours and complicate Faith's life even further) would stand in the long-term body of human-interest pictures (alongside, for example, the picture of the Oklahoma City fireman Chris Fields carrying the dead baby Baylee Almon in the aftermath of the April 1995 bombing of the Alfred P Murragh building in Oklahoma City).

The image of the tall, blonde, female FBI agent comforting the terrified released captive broke hearts and sold newspapers for a long time afterwards. Copies were expanded and framed in Harm's office at Falls Church, Terri's team coffee room inside the FBI HQ - and, eventually, in Faith's study inside her home (hidden behind the door, yet acknowledging what she had gone through in 2002). Ultimately, it would appear in a tableau of photographs at Faith's wedding, many years in the future after she had learned to trust people - and one particularly wonderful, caring, patient, loving and lovable man - once more.

The photograph, judiciously cropped, also appeared in several gun magazines. These picked up the ammunition clip tucked into the top of Terri's boot and the SIG in the holster at her hip, with captions like " _Armed and fabulous_ " and " _Tennessee target practice at Boot camp_ ". None of these did any harm to Terri's standing within the Bureau, which experienced an increase in career enquiries, from young women, asking how they could " _join up and do what Dr Coulter-Rabb does_ ". Harm arranged for a copy of *that* magazine cover to be framed for his study.

Once again, Harmon Rabb jr would be very, very proud of his Tennessee Tiger. He knew that, almost five years previously in Arizona, the right woman had selected him to be her mate for life. Even though he had initially resisted her "charms" that first day in the laboratory, it was clear that Teresa Ellen Coulter had been the girl for him - and he revelled in that knowledge that FBI Agent Doctor Teresa Ellen Coulter-Rabb would be his partner through life.

The Rabb family ring was "in good hands", he would joke to himself as he reviewed the large print of the photograph of his wife which was gaining global publicity.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Saturday 7th December 2002 - 09:56hrs EST**

 **CAMC General Hospital, 501 Morris St, Charleston, WV 25301, USA.**

During the rescue, the Marine Osprey crew had conferred with the FBI helo crew as they confirmed the logistics of the hospital run.

The rooftop helipad of the hospital might not support the weight of the larger Osprey, so the decision was made to use the FBI helicopter to transfer Faith on the short run to the Regional Trauma Centre, with the Osprey transporting the displaced FBI agents. One member of the TV documentary camera crew had begged her spot on the FBI helo, accompanying Faith and capturing the drama of the flight from her mineshaft prison. Ground transportation met the Osprey at its landing ground to transfer the FBI agents speedily into the hospital. The Osprey, despite flying a roundabout route to Charleston to allow the FBI helicopter an arrow-straight run to the hospital, landed first and enabled the FBI agents on board to get out and across to the hospital quickly; they were inside the ER ready to greet and protect Faith and her escorts before she had fully descended in the elevator from the rooftop helipad.

With an FBI helicopter occupying the rooftop helipad and a USMC MV-22 Osprey parked across the road in the Appalachian Power Park baseball ground, along with police units guarding the entrances, it was clear to the citizens of Charleston that something serious was going on as the city awoke on the Saturday morning. Fortunately, CAMC General Hospital is home to the highest level Trauma Centre, ensuring that Faith Coleman received the best level of attention within minutes of transferring from the rooftop helipad into the ER. Other critical-care patients received the same level of trauma care as they arrived.

The presence of six armed FBI agents, with a number of NCIS agents in support, cordoning off part of the ER, soon gave a clue as to what was under way.

Faith was checked over thoroughly and pronounced " _dehydrated but in remarkably good shape for her stage of pregnancy_ ". Paediatricians checked over her babies and cleared the expectant mother and babies for the longer flight back to the Washington DC area. An ambulance later transferred her from the ER entrance on Washington and Brooks, along Lewis Street to the baseball ground, where it was planned that the MV-22 would continue its CASEVAC role and would fly her, with an NCIS escort, Terri and one other FBI agent for continuity of the evidence chain, over to Maryland.

Faith, although she was slowly recovering her self-assurance following the rescue, had insisted that Terri accompany her on the flight to Bethesda; Terri was happy to accede to Faith's request. She updated Harm by phone before boarding the Osprey for the onward flight east. Throughout the flight, Faith kept one hand linked to Terri at all times. Gibbs contacted the NCIS HQ CP to arrange for someone to run Terri's car across to Bethesda - it seemed a sensible professional courtesy to the FBI ME who had impressed Gibbs during the planning and rescue. Gibbs realised ruefully that he still had his own car keys in his trouser pocket - this Doctor Coulter-Rabb just seemed to plan ahead better, whatever she was doing, he told himself. Gibbs had seriously considered that Terri Coulter-Rabb would have made a darn' good Marine.

The FBI agents continued to deal with the captured UNSub, once his wounds had been attended to. He had been transported to hospital under guard in the Osprey. Although one of the FBI agents had retrieved the unsub's severed fingers and preserved them in the drinks-cooler ice-box in their helicopter, the vascular surgeon in the Trauma Centre had declared them beyond redemption and commenced work to tidy up the impact wounds cause by the second of Terri's two bullets which she had fired at the UNSub. The wound to his foot - caused by Terri's first bullet - was dealt with quite quickly and his foot was plastered to aid recovery. The heavy plaster cast also had the additional benefit of impeding the UNSub's potential attempts to escape!

The FBI retained custody of the prisoner as he recovered and was processed in the Charleston ER, then arranged for his transfer, via Yeager Airport, to the Secure Ward of a hospital in DC - on a site miles away from the Bethesda complex in Maryland where Faith was transferred to start her recovery. He entered " _the system_ " and would be arraigned when he was able to stand.

When his first Public Defender lawyer (who happened to be female) arrived, he rejected the woman and asked for a male lawyer; this "preference" ended up being "leaked" to an distinctly unsympathetic Press corps.

 **Saturday 7th December 2002 - 18:36hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Harm had spent the day playing with Ellen (who was beginning to realise the disadvantages of Christmas and birthdays taking place seven days apart, and so was preparing her separate fourth-birthday wish-list for Daddy and Mommy) and looking after young David who was about to hit the six-month mark. He knew that Terri would make contact when she could, following her brief update phone-call at coffee time from Charleston to let him know that Faith was safe and was being transferred to Bethesda and that Terri would be accompanying the rescued JAG lawyer.

It was not until the early evening that Terri was able to make a further phone call as she drove home from Bethesda. She was pleased to find out that her journey home had been facilitated by NCIS. A considerate NCIS agent had collected her car keys from the Marines at the CP and had driven her Suburban across to Bethesda from NCIS HQ during the day. She had thanked Gibbs for his foresight, as this enabled her to make the simple four-mile drive home to Forest Hills once Faith had settled in to her room at Bethesda and had fallen asleep as the sedatives took effect. The two parents agreed on a take-away order, which Harm subsequently phoned in whilst Terri completed her journey home.

On arrival, Terri hugged Harm; he looked surprised as he realised that she was still wearing her body armour under her FBI jacket. He stepped back, giving her space to head into the study; there, she systematically checked her weapons, making them safe and securing them in the weapons safe as she removed her jacket, shoulder-holster, webbing belt with SIG, ballistic vest and the spare ammunition clips from her boot-tops. The spare HRT equipment would go back to FBI HQ on Monday morning for re-allocation, whilst she would set time aside later to clean the weapon which she had used and then reload the spare clips after settling her children into bed during the coming evening.

The takeaway arrived, so Terri and Harm settled down to their delayed evening meal as they discussed the events of the day. Afterwards, Harm uncovered Terri's legs and gave her a ten-minute foot massage on the sofa in their lounge. As she relaxed, Terri thought back to how resilient Faith Coleman had been.

"I tell you Harm, she is a remarkable woman; she has stayed alive through ten months of almost complete isolation, a significant amount of sensory deprivation and the slow discovery that she is pregnant without remembering the impregnation. I tell you, if that had happened to me, I would be seriously spooked! Yet she takes it in her stride. She was itching to get out of the Osprey when we landed at Bethesda".

Harm smiled: "An Osprey - that must have saved you some time across the country?"

Terri nodded; "yes, and the speed over the ground was an added advantage to the vertical take-off flexibility".

Harm continued: "I remember a case in about '01, when Bobbi Latham was trying to kill the Osprey programme - the US Marine Corps fought tooth and nail to get it funded past the inevitable initial teething troubles, because they could see the potential of the rotor-craft design. I reckon that tonight is definitely a plus-one for the Osprey programme".

"Yes indeed Harm - and it was so smooth, a well as beating the pants off the HRT helo; the FBI HRT was significantly slower to arrive on-site than I was with NCIS in the MV-22; Gibbs was itching to get into action".

Terri paused, then continued her previous line of conversation: "But Harm, although she impressed me, I am worried about Faith. Taking everything into account, with the joy of liberation, she does seem subdued however and I fear that her spirit may have been broken - so much has happened which is entirely in conflict with her OCD and she has had no control over events. So, there is a lot of therapy in the future for our Faith, I reckon".

Harm kissed her gently on the crown of her head. "But the good thing, darling, is that she has us!"

"Yes, that's true, Tomcat; thanks for minding the babies today".

"No problem - what Daddy wouldn't want to spend time with his daughter and his son, whilst his wonderful, special, super-capable wife is off battling the bad guys and rescuing damsels in distress?"

Terri slapped his arm playfully then kissed him. "OK, I'm gonna run a bath - would you care to join me, darling husband?"

"Lead on, darling Teresa; lead on".

Fortunately, there were no more calls that weekend to the FBI Duty ME; the next morning, Terri and Harm managed a lie-in before enjoying a dedicated Sunday with their two children.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 14 - "Rescue and Recovery" (Part 24)**


	15. Aftermath : Exhumation

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 15 - parts 25 and 26)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed.

 **A/N:** Ch 15: Publication date 01-Oct-2018: ...and now, on with Chapter Fifteen. Following the rescue of Faith Coleman, the legal system steps in, starting the process of bringing the bad guy to justice. My thanks to an old (unregistered so we cannot discuss by PM) reviewer for pointing out the need for a little more background information on Terri's FBI role (past and present). Your wish, dear sir, is my command!

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Phase Fifteen of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Aftermath" , "Exhumation"**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 15 - Part 25 - "Aftermath"** **(aka "regaining an equilibrium")** **.**

 **Sunday 8th December 2002 - 07:10hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Harm and Terri woke just before dawn on the Sunday morning, then dozed and chatted for a while before they rose to face their commitments in the day ahead. Terri had promised, as she left Bethesda on the Saturday evening, that she would be dropping back into Bethesda to visit Faith during the Sunday morning, to check on her after her first night post-rescue. Harm had held Terri in his arms and savoured the safe return of his wife from a mission which had involved firearms.

Despite his confidence in his Tennessee Terrier, Harm always experienced a slight unease when Terri was out in the field - no matter, he admitted to himself, how dumb that sounded. Terri was a fully-qualified and experienced FBI agent and former police ME, as well as an officer in the US Navy Reserves and a qualified doctor. And yet, he admitted to just a hint of caveman-mentality concern for "his woman".

By contrast Terri had, once again, relished the opportunity to get the smell of the morgue out of her nostrils during her adventure in West Virginia. Additionally, the satisfying experience of recovering a live kidnap victim and putting away a Bad Guy was the icing on her FBI cake.

A question intruded into Harm's consciousness, expanding upon a chain of thought which had occurred to him as he had fallen asleep on the Saturday night.

"Terri, how come you led the FBI recovery and the raid on the bad guy? I'd guess that HRT would lead this?"

She opened one eye and smiled at him. "Well Harm, you would be technically correct about HRT but for two things."

She counted off the points on her fingers.

"Firstly, remember that I had been with MPD for six years before we first met? Well, before I got ever involved with you - way back in MPD days - I had worked with the FBI on hostage rescue. This came after a disastrous incident in Memphis when the recovery of three hostages went badly wrong. I spotted similar injuries on all three bodies when I was carrying out the autopsies and so I started asking questions. I was concerned about the types of wounds inflicted. MPD were looking to cross-train officers and I was lecturing on forensics techniques; this was the other side of the deal within MPD. The FBI were keen to spread skills into the local forces after they had learned the lessons of Waco in 1993 and so I was volunteered to participate in the HRT training scenarios at Quantico. Plus, MPD had long memories of the kidnapping at Shannon Street in 1983. So I had my FBI qualification before I joined the Bureau after Ellie was born, but had just never really used it since formally joining the Bureau in '99".

She kissed his pre-shaving face, rasping her fingers across his morning stubble before she continued. "Secondly, the duty HRT had only just arrived back yesterday into Quantico from a long mission out of state - part of the delay had been caused by getting their helicopter refuelled and re-armed and re-provisioned, but the agents also admitted that they were physically exhausted. You must have noticed that the tempo of FBI operations has shot up since 9/11?"

Harm nodded.

"Well, it isn't something that the Bureau is proud of, or likes to talk about, but we are stretched thin. FBI agents don't grow on trees. FLETC is churning out newly-minted agents as fast as possible, but they need seasoning and the bad guys aren't resting nor are their numbers diminishing. So, the existing teams are starting to show a measure of what we are terming (perhaps incorrectly) ' _battle fatigue_ ' and after 15 months this is becoming a recognised problem in the post-9/11 world. You may remember that workshop I ran in Atlanta last month - we were looking at causes and effects because we've had three more suicides than normal and that is three dead agents too many for the year. The workshop was looking at possible ways to ease the pressure and one was using trained but not-yet-seasoned agents to assist - it's a kinda super-sized mentoring programme, training "on-the-job" in risky but well-contained situations. So that is one of the reasons why I got involved as the leader last night".

Harm nodded: "That explains you going all 'Annie Oakley' with your Desert Eagle - did the HRT members appreciate your help?"

Terri smiled. "Yes eventually - but it wasn't easy. They were grouchy and they were tired and so, in the risk planning session in the HRT helicopter after it had landed, we agreed that I would take the lead, especially because I had been on site longer and had previously identified that there was just one male DNA donor in all of the samples for all of the deceased victims. Tim McGee from NCIS had identified just two heat sources in the site - and one of them was definitely female and pregnant. So, all our intel indicated one male suspect and the evidence showed just one male in residence. The LEOs had kept the place surrounded for hours. The only other female FBI agents on board were the sharpshooter and the HRT leader, although we wanted Faith to be rescued, greeted and comforted by females wherever possible".

She smiled at Harm's concerned face: "So yes, I can understand you wondering why a FBI ME with apparently just four years of experience is leading a hostage recovery. But no, I *do* have previous relevant experience and I was qualified and I was reasonably-well rested when I boarded the Osprey - as distinct from just returned to base, arriving straight back from a stressful all-day mission which was the case for the rest of the team on board the helicopter from Quantico. Additionally, we knew where the victim was, there was no-one else apart from the bad guy on site - and he was in another building that was physically separated from Faith and we had him safely contained away from her".

She placed a reassuring hand on his wrist: "Harm, we had de-risked this before we ever started to move to the deployment positions around the mine site. Just like you would not go into a court-room without a prepared brief, so we in the FBI will not go into danger without a good plan - and we back each other up if there is a fatigue issue. Blame the bad guys for our workload, not imaginary intra-team squabbles inside the FBI". She smiled, leaned across and kissed him.

Harm relaxed: "OK experienced FBI Agent Coulter-Rabb, that's another badge for your jacket". They hugged and snuggled back under the duvet for a while longer.

As they settled, a thought occurred to Terri: "Harm?"

"Hmm, yes darling?"

"I have a good feeling about Faith Coleman, but I feel that she may eventually return as the same officer but a completely different woman after this experience".

"Well, Terri, that could be to everyone's benefit; if she recaptures (or retains) the structure of her rigid, Naval, disciplined life and yet becomes a more flexible, loving, welcoming member of the human race - and a great mother to her twins - then I'd call that a win-win. She had the makings of a very good lawyer". Harm smiled before continuing. "Once she overcomes the anally-retentive pencil collection in the OCD briefcase from hell".

"Yeah, but what will we lose of Faith in the process? She's going to need a lot of support - and love, if she will accept it. She has had no choice about becoming pregnant, because that bastard took away her right to choose as a woman - how the hell does that affect her sanity, self-esteem and desire for self-control?".

"And from what you've said, my darling Teresa, about how she has reached out to you, I reckon that she may just make it work with your help and the assistance of a lot of other people - both friends and professionals. Damn, I wish that Jordan hadn't been murdered - she would have been perfect for this job. Anyway, we *will* put Humpty-Dumpty back together again!"

Terri realised that this was the first time, since receiving Jordan's posthumous letter after the funeral in May of '01, that Harm had mentioned the murdered blonde psychiatrist. They settled back to sleep, aiming to doze for another hour. Visiting and helping Faith would be a job for later on during the Sunday morning and Terri wanted to leave some milk for Harm to feed to David whilst she was up at Bethesda. At six months, David was ready to wean and to begin the process of moving onto solids. Terri was hoping that he would follow Ellen's trouble-free example. Harm would be baby-sitting during the Sunday.

Unfortunately, their Sunday morning lie-in was to be short-lived. It turned out that Faith had woken up at 02:12hrs that morning and had freaked out somewhat, believing that she was back in shackles. As the hospital explained, there was a need for the reassurance of a friendly face.

This sudden awakening may (with hindsight) have been down to the sudden ending of sedatives being pumped into her body during her ten-months of captivity. The kidnapper wasn't talking, so the poor medical team had to guess what was happening when Faith woke up, distressed and disoriented, in the early hours of the Sunday morning. Although it had taken 30 minutes of doctors and nurses to re-assure her that the imprisonment was over, (and because no-one had wanted to use sedatives on her because of her pregnancy) Faith had not slept well for the rest of the night.

At that point, no-one had made the connection with the sedative which had been found in all the bodies of the dead kidnap victims. They just assumed that Faith had woken up and reverted to her memories of being confined.

The hospital phoned Terri on the stroke of 09:00hrs to ask her to come in and visit Faith. " _We know you were busy yesterday Dr Coulter-Rabb, but when we mentioned your name she brightened up_ ".The Coulter-Rabb Sunday morning lie-in was effectively curtailed, so Terri smiled and promised to be with Faith by around 10:30hrs. Fortunately the two-person shower-stall in the parental en-suite bathroom was spacious and received good usage that morning.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Sunday 8th December 2002, 10:38hrs EST**

 **Duty Officer of the Day (OOD)'s desk, JAG HQ, Falls Church, VA**

Lt Loren Singer signed in at the CP. The duty marine guard admired her slim hips and turtle-neck sweater under her winter coat. With her blonde hair held back in a loose pony-tail, Loren presented a different image from her usual buttoned-down JAG officer persona.

She had not planned to be in work on this pre-Christmas Sunday morning. However, because the Real World intruded into the " _case of the Kidnapped JAG_ " on that Sunday morning, Loren had been summoned whilst travelling back from her early church service.

The public discussion of the legal aftermath of the "Motherhood Killer" (the publicly-adopted name of UNSub94 once the news broke) case had continued. Once the news of Faith's rescue had broken, the legal correspondent of the New York Times had published an opinion piece on the Sunday, entitled: **"** ** _How on earth can a kidnapped US naval officer be charged with being UA after THIS experience and still have the charges hanging over her on this, the anniversary weekend of Pearl Harbour when we commemorate our military services_** **"?**

Somehow, the UA charges against Faith, dating from 18th February, had leaked out into the public domain during the intervening months. A wave of revulsion was quickly apparent across the country, piloted by the Right-Wing press which had been active and vocal in supporting all branches of the US military since the September 11th attacks 15 months earlier.

This aspect of the Faith Coleman case reminded Harm of an old adage (usually involved with the Press): " _Never let the facts get in the way of a good story_!"

On hearing about the newspaper headlines, Terri countered with an adage of her own: " _The lie is half-way around the world whilst the truth is putting its running-shoes on_ ".

Springing into action and working quickly on the Sunday to prepare her case, Lt Loren Singer established - with the keen and enthusiastic assistance of Judge Owen Sebring (who had been Faith's judicial supervisor for her TAD, providing oversight during her temporary duty within JAG HQ) - a speed record for getting the UA charges against Faith Coleman dismissed. The process took two minutes and 48 seconds from Loren opening the files in the courtroom to Owen banging the gavel; the matter was formally closed a fortnight before Christmas 2002. Although he would never show favouritism, Judge Owen Sebring had been appreciative of Harm's efforts, earlier in 2002, when Harm had defended Judge Sebring against a charge of vehicular manslaughter.

That morning, Faith was immediately cleared (in legal terms) to return to JAG HQ, without a stain (of any sort) on her service record and she was immediately placed on indefinite sick leave (dating back to the date of her abduction in February) to get the recovery, rehabilitation - and births - accomplished, ahead of any requirements to appear at the trial of the "Motherhood Killer".

Sadly, the stains and shadows on Faith's soul would, however, probably need - and consume - a lot more time, energy and counselling to expunge before she would feel able and completely comfortable at being cleared to return to the Service in the aftermath of her kidnapping and forced entry into motherhood.

As it turned out, this clearing of Faith Coleman's UA charge would sadly prove to be one of Loren Singer's very last cases. Shortly before, she had been unceremoniously shipped back to shore from her aircraft carrier once her unplanned pregnancy was discovered, so Loren had returned to her previous posting at JAG HQ. Once there, she had decided to keep the baby rather than having an abortion, so she adopted the sensible " _nine-to-five_ " workload of the expectant mother prior to maternity leave, where this (to her mind unfair) Coleman UA case was just one among many in her workload.

Loren was destined to disappear in very early January 2003, not to be discovered until the ice thawed in April of 2003. But that is a story to be told elsewhere.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Sunday 8th December 2002 - 10:54hrs EST**

 **Ward 66, "M" deck, Bethesda (aka "Walter Reed") Naval Hospital, 8901 Rockville Pike, Bethesda, Maryland**

" _Package for Coleman_ "; Terri called out as she carried in a large bouquet of flowers to greet her recently-rescued naval commander. Terri had telephoned the order through to the local florist, for collection as she headed into Bethesda.

Faith sat up, cradling her baby-swollen belly, with her hair shampooed, heavily conditioned and held back once more with Terri's barrette. A brief touch of theatrical make-up had been applied to the bruising around her eye and upper cheek, even though the details of one side of her face were still obscured by the swelling, as she continued to display the final "gift" from her captor. The bruising was beginning to develop into a set of livid colours as the suffused blood migrated through the tissues of her face. Around the base of her neck, she wore a bright silk scarf, covering the rusty stain which had penetrated her skin during the months of her captivity.

"Hello Terri - somehow, saying just 'thank you' seems so inadequate". Faith was gently weeping again. She reached over and plucked a tissue and, as she mopped her eyes, Terri's eyes were drawn to the wedding band, which was still in place on the ring finger of Faith's left hand. She frowned - just as Faith's one good eye looked up at her and followed her glance.

"Oh, you're wondering about the ring Terri? Well, my rationale is two-fold. One, it reminds me that I am alive, free and recovering after a truly horrendous experience of kidnapping and more. Additionally, it reminds me that some filthy, inadequate pervert, who damaged me but killed far more unfortunate women and babies and still couldn't get a woman willingly, is behind bars. Plus, I cannot get the darn thing off my finger in my present condition!"

She eased backwards and sat up higher against the pillow. "Terri, I intend to wear this at his trial; then after his conviction I may probably remove it in his sight". She shrugged: "or I may not, by that stage, give a shit and so I shall wear it as a symbol of every single day of freedom that I enjoy. Additionally, my babies will grow in peace and with the knowledge that they represent our ultimate victory over the inadequate swine who stole - and has impacted beyond - more than a year of my life".

Terri smiled: "So in other words, you are keeping your options open because you have a free choice and that is precious today, Faith?"

"Yes Terri, I am - darn it, you phrased that well, dear friend, especially for a non-lawyer". The two women smiled and embraced. Faith was definitely opening up, giving Terri hope that the "little robot" would forever be taking a back seat in Faith's future life.

"So Faith, how are your two little passengers getting on?"

Faith looked down and gently caressed her stomach. "Amazingly and despite everything that was done to me (I mean *us* of course), these two little people inside me are proving very resilient, so I guess that Mother Nature has this system pretty well developed for us girls to carry babies through all sorts of cra... - errr, trouble!"

She laughed at her near-slip - somehow, Faith had realised that the former, " _self-controlled robotic Faith Coleman_ " could be seen faintly, still hovering somewhere below the surface of the her seemingly human-looking woman as she continued. "Anyhow, the doctors are all pleased and satisfied with their progress; it looks like these little passengers are around six to seven months along in development time, so I have another couple of months to go, because twins tend to pop out earlier. I have the ultrasound printout somewhere around here".

Faith reached for her bedside unit, turning her head away from Terri as she leaned down to select a plastic wallet from beside her bed. The movement caused Faith's ponytail to slide sideways, exposing the naked shaved area on the back of her neck.

Terri winced, inwardly, calculating how close Faith had come to being slaughtered - the shaved patch of hair on the back of Faith's neck was a sign of impending " _planning for termination_ " by the UNSub and bore witness to how close Faith had approached the shadow of death. Terri decided not to share that nugget of information with Faith; the woman had enough on her plate with unplanned twins.

Turning back, Faith looked up nervously at Terri and called her closer, with worry on her face. "Terri, I really am not looking forward to the births; I know (from Health Ed in my old school days and from talking with the medics here) what will be happening to my body as I approach my due date, but I'm nowhere near prepared and I don't think I can stand being stretched that wide". Faith looked deep into Terri's eyes as she whispered: "And I'm not very experienced..."

Terri took hold of Faith's hand and comforted Faith. "Well Faith, there are options, but remember that we women have been pushing out babies for millennia - plus, as you mentioned, Mother Nature has done a good job on them so far for you despite that shit-hole that you were held in. Look, your body releases all sorts of hormones to make you flexible and relaxed for the birth (come on, trust me - I'm a doctor and I have gone through this whole experience twice myself!), so I reckon we women are biologically programmed to forget the unpleasantness of childbirth".

She hugged Faith closely, taking care to avoid the worried woman's damaged cheek before she continued.

"Also, twins tend to have lower birth weights - usually five pounds each, against seven-plus pounds for a full-term baby - and they tend to arrive slightly early". She looked up at Faith's face and could still see doubt. "OK Faith, I guess that something else is playing on your mind?"

Faith smiled and explained. "Terri, that is all well and good, but my only comparison point within my family is that my sister's first child was over 10lbs - so I was always planning that I was going to be the maiden aunt who looked good in a swimsuit". She looked down at her swollen belly. "Not any more - look at me now" she lamented as she began weeping quietly once more, causing Terri to hug her again. She finally felt some of the tension leaving Faith's body as she formulated her answer to Faith's latest concern.

"Hey, I am actually lighter than I was two years ago; breastfeeding helps to dump your pregnancy weight - believe me it helps to shed the pounds" replied Terri; "and don't forget that I shall be with you for every step of the way - there are some great post-natal exercise plans which I will work through alongside you".

"Oh really, Terri?"

"Hell yeah really, Faith - I am doing the exercises most days. Plus, dear friend, there is no way that you're getting rid of me for the next 20 years, unless you get tired of me" she smiled. "Now, do you know if you are carrying boys, girls or a matching pair". Although Terri had seen the scans, she wanted Faith to open up and confirm that she knew the gender of the babies which were growing inside her, to start building a conversation and get Faith's mind beyond the pain of childbirth and onto the practicalities of motherhood.

"Well, I am told - from the ultrasounds - that I am carrying a boy and a girl" Faith replied. She then voiced the little thought which was ringing in the back of her head: " _Typical Unsub94 victim_..."

"Hey, not typical at all - remember sister, *you* survived! So, you get the pleasure of picking from two lists of names - boy names and girl names - lucky girl" enthused Terri, desperately trying to keep a light tone to the conversation. She hadn't been going to mention that Faith's balanced pair of embryos matched the embryo gender balance in all the other (dead) women victims of UNSub94, but Faith had broached the subject and Terri felt obliged to reply and follow up.

Faith then frowned - not a good sign, Terri thought - and opened her mouth to ask another question. Terri realised that Faith was a typical lawyer, just like Harm - always thinking!

"Terri, I don't need, want nor ever wish to know the name of the bastard who abducted me and left me in this condition, but I do need to choose a name for my son when he is born. Now, I obviously want to avoid using the UNSub's name to christen him - even by accident. So, if I give you a list of potential boys' names - say a list of 20 - would you please cut out four at random plus his name if it is there and hand the list of 15 back to me please? That way, I can never be truly sure what his name was and I think that my sanity can cope with that".

Terri took Faith's hands in a comforting embrace - her fingers could still trace the rough skin on Faith's wrists, where the cuffs had chafed her skin over the ten months of her captivity.

"Faith, that would be our pleasure - and who knows, you may get the list back with all 20 still showing, because his name was nowhere on the list. But remember that, realistically, you will be a witness in the trial, so his name may leak out in your presence".

Faith sat with calm assurance and simply replied: "Then if that happens, it was meant to be and I have no control over the legal process, which I know is of such importance to your husband - and to you, because I have heard how hard you had fought to keep the Accused alive to stand trial. In fairness, I have used the law to protect and prosecute others; so it is really only fair that I place myself in the hands of the law".

She shrugged fatalistically. "If he is named when I am present in the court during hearings, so be it - I am a little more accepting of 'life events' than I was a year ago! However, I shall endeavour to forget the name when the court case is completed. Terri, you will understand that I feel that I *need* to regain control of my life - wherever possible. I do accept that there will be some things where he has marked me for life - and I just have to get on with those aspects of my life".

"Oh Faith, believe me, I *do* understand - and that's why there are therapists in your support structure".

Faith smiled shyly: "Ok, next question - which may need to go to your lovely lawyer husband or a colleague."

"OK, shoot".

"Terri, I know that this kidnapping, murdering bastard should spend the rest of his days in prison or on Death Row, but on the assumption (I guess that I really mean presumption because you cannot divulge the evidence before the trial?) that he is the sperm donor, what parental rights could he have to my babies? I really want any potential rights (that he might have or claim) extinguished by the court; could you ask to have that request added to the court docket please?"

Faith looked down at her mid-section once more, then looked up at Terri with tears in her eyes; "Frankly, because I do not remember the conception, I don't want him involved in their lives after they are successfully born - and that needs to be reinforced by the Court". She reached out a hand to Terri - Terri noticed that Faith's whole body was trembling, wound tighter than a spring as tears flooded down Faith's cheeks.

"Terri, I don't think I could cope if he was confirmed as the father *and* asked for visitation rights - that would truly be adding insult to injury - and assault, and kidnap and false imprisonment...…." Faith's voice tailed off into heartbroken sobs; on her heart monitor, the readings began to spike.

Terri wrapped her hands around Faith's joined fists and kissed the terrified JAG's knuckles as the first nurse rushed into the room in response to Faith's raised vital signs, which were triggering loud alerts in the nurses' station along the corridor.

"Faith, I agree - and we may need to engage the court of public opinion - and the odd senator - to achieve this. I reckon that someone like Bobbi Latham could be useful for this, if we need to wheel in the big guns. Hmm, let me think about it for a day or two - and I will of course ask my Tomcat". Then she brightened; "Faith, you never know; you could become the inspiration behind some new kind of ' _Faith's Law_ ' if it works out - terminating the parental rights of criminals in particularly nasty cases".

"Thanks Terri". Faith was finally settling down when she suddenly twitched and shot upright in the hospital bed with a sharp intake of breath. Concerned, Terri looked at her. "Faith?" The nurse ( who had responded to Faith's raised vitals and was still in the room) supported Faith from the other side of the bed.

Faith smiled. "Nothing malign; it's just that one of them kicked - I feel like a bit-part player in the _Alien_ films!"

"Well Faith - that is a good analogy: Sigourney Weaver's Ripley character was a strong woman, a fighter and a survivor - something you have proven every day in captivity and especially every hour since you were recovered".

Faith smiled: "Terri, I like your way of thinking".

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 **Chapter 15 - Part 26 - "Exhumation".**

 **Wednesday 11th December 2002 - 13:51rs EST**

 **Coal River Collieries crime scene site, Rumble, Boone County, WV 25009.**

On the afternoon of the second day of the detailed FBI forensic investigation around the site of Faith's imprisonment and rescue, the excavation teams reached the fourth of the five sites which had been indicated by the cadaver dogs on the Monday, when the site had been marked out in a grid-square pattern for investigation.

The first three locations had yielded nothing visible to Ground Penetrating Radar but had been excavated and cleared to a depth of three feet using mechanical backhoes and other earth-moving equipment hired locally. The resulting spoil was sieved and piled to the side.

In each site, the dogs - after re-examining the excavated soil then being run through the sieving kit alongside the excavation - indicated that there was no longer a scent. The first site only revealed small bones from a dead squirrel (that was the professional view of the onsite pathologist as she shivered and wished once more that she had worn her thermal underwear that morning, given the 40'F air temperature!) and nothing showed up in site two and site three.

Site four, however, revealed a USAF female-pattern officer's handbag containing eight severed fingers and two thumbs (from the nails, manicured and painted as they were, the investigators assumed a female body) with ID for a USAF colonel who had vanished between Memorial Day (when she had last been seen) and June 1st of 2001 (when she had been reported UA for missing a meeting).

Ground Penetrating Radar revealed nothing else in site four, but on working their way across site five, the investigators struck gold (admittedly, the sort of result that you do *not* want when seeking a missing person and hoping to discover the living person).

The image on the screen indicated a human body (in terms of size and approximate layout) at a depth of around four feet; only the relatively loose soil (not the cold air) at the site had probably enabled the cadaver dogs to sense the decaying body beneath. The ground above and around the body was excavated and sieved for evidence, before the gentle trowel-and-brush excavation of the actual remains was initiated.

The victim was recovered and her remains re-assembled on a portable table in the forensic tent which had been assembled alongside the excavation (which had been covered with a larger tent to preserved the site and ward off inquisitive eyes - the deceased woman deserved that level of privacy as she was excavated and recovered).

It quickly became apparent that she was missing the thumbs and fingers of both hands and had been interred for some 18 months (which fitted with the tentative ID from the handbag recovered at site four).

Terri joined in by video-link from DC and guided the on-site pathologist (whom she had trained some years back in Memphis before the younger woman had fallen in love with a West Virginia man and transferred to the FBI regional office) through the necessary steps. The USAF pathologist joined in online as well, given the likely provenance of the corpse; a transfer to Dover was the likely outcome and Terri would be happy to cede authority at that point in time; she had a backed-up queue of her own FBI cases in her FBI morgue and did not need the additional caseload.

The Armed Forced DNA Registry was placed on alert and the samples were quickly processed. Whilst the DNA analysis was processing, the examination of the physical remains continued, establishing that the dead woman (who was still wearing the remains of her USAF summer uniform) had been killed by the injection of a neurotoxin into the back of her neck - a signature of "UNSub94" - and this led the investigators to surmise that the UNSub had disposed of her very soon after capture - and then gone on to acquire a replacement victim to maintain his programme of work.

Once the identification was confirmed, the sad background of the 30-year-old victim became clear; she had returned to full-time duty just 20 months before she disappeared, following surgery (quite radical surgery) for a late-diagnosed case of cervical cancer - a disease which is rare, but not unheard-of, in women of her age. Terri rapidly realised, on scanning the woman's records, that this would have made the woman useless to UNSUB94's "captive breeding programme" (as she had dubbed his efforts).

Closer examination of the remaining flesh revealed that the number "A4" had been carved into the heel of the dead woman's left foot - this confirmed her status and sequence in the victimology.

Terri was struck by the monstrous irony and unfairness of the dead woman's situation.

" _God, what a waste - she survives cancer, gets cleared to return to work with a good prognosis and then this bastard grabs her, only to find that she physically cannot serve his purpose so he simply executes her and throws her away then grabs another_ ".

"OK people, good work; let's get this evidence documented and sent across to the prosecutors".

The final victim of the "Motherhood Killer" had been identified and could be laid to rest in due course. Nothing else of significance was found in the grounds surrounding the lair of the "MK". By December 20th, the abandoned West Virginia site would once again be fading back into overgrown obscurity.

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 **Friday 13th December 2002 - 12:45hrs EST**

 **Armed Forces DNA Identification Laboratory, Armed Forces Medical Examiner System;**

 **1413 Research Blvd., Bldg. 101, 2nd Floor, Rockville, MD 20850**

In a room alongside the mortuary where General Straker's Air Force ME colleagues were completing the analysis of the USAF colonel who had been recovered from her shallow grave in West Virginia two days before, the DNA technicians were able to confirm the identity and bring closure to the 18-month search by her parents and family. Victim A4 could be brought home to her family - one more case closed.

The evidence of the damage to her body was photographed and catalogued, ready to add to details of the USAF's existing four lost officers (A1 to A3 and A5) on the charge sheet for the DA to file whenever the UNSub was finally brought to court.

Standing around the pathetic remains on the stainless-steel table, everyone involved in the past 48 hours of activity swore a solemn oath to ensure that "The System" would bring the killer to justice. Killing a woman who had survived, recovered from and thrived after cancer was just inhuman. Victim A4 would be avenged.

The UNSub had to be made to pay for his crimes. The quality of the evidence would play a crucial role in ensuring his conviction.

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 **Wednesday 25th December 2002 - 16:00hrs EST**

 **Ward 66, "M" deck, Bethesda (aka "Walter Reed") Naval Hospital, 8901 Rockville Pike, Bethesda, Maryland**

" _Merry Christmas, one and all_ ": The Professor of Obstetrics, clad in the customary red cloak of Santa Claus to compliment his natural white beard, had made his rounds of the hospital and was leaving "M" deck to visit the Paeds ICU just as Harm, Terri, Ellie, David and the entire Sims-Roberts clan had arrived in Faith's room to start a Christmas gathering. The timings had been agreed earlier in the previous week and cleared with the hospital authorities (who had, of course, assented), with two microwave ovens wheeled in on a trolley to keep the meals hot. It turned out that Faith's heroine status had overcome the lingering resistance of anyone who objected on the basis of "hospital procedure". Faith was constantly reminded of the warm friendship of "the Sisterhood" which was watching over her in the hospital.

" _Flowers for Coleman_ " Terri called out as she carried in a large bouquet of flowers to greet her recently-rescued naval commander.

Faith sat up, raising a glass of apple juice. "Thank you, my friends, for helping me to celebrate a day which, in the middle of this year and on many occasions in the middle of the nights over the past ten months, I was increasingly uncertain that I would ever see; it is great to be here on Day plus-18 of my new life".

She teared up a little, then recovered her composure and continued.

"I shall simply say - in the words of Charles Dickens and ' _A Christmas Carol_ ' - 'God bless us one and all".

"And God bless you, too, Faith". Terri was very happy to once more acknowledge her Southern Baptist roots. This was why she had presented Faith - as one of her Christmas presents - with a cross on a chain, similar to that which Terri wore around her neck. Faith had whooped with joy on unwrapping that present, kissed Terri and then immediately clipped the chain around her neck, uttering the immortal lines " _I get to choose what goes around my neck_!". With her silk scarf removed, the gold necklace sparkled against the contrast of the ingrained rust in the skin of her neck. She had re-tied her scarf, looked up and smiled once more.

The meal was served and everyone enjoyed the food, the opening of further presents and a short session of carol singing. The party wrapped up a couple of hours later, leaving Faith to fall asleep in a contented haze of turkey and "all the trimmings" as her supporters prepared to head off to their family gatherings. She had fallen asleep surrounded by all her friends and surfing on a tidal wave of love, affection and support. This coming night - as was happening on a reassuringly higher proportions of her nights - she rejoiced that the bad man did not appear in her dreams.

 **At that stage, no-one could have forecast that it would take over a year of further therapy and treatment before Faith would be able to return fully to her former life and duties. The psychological damage ran deep and would be complicated by post-natal considerations; but Faith's friends would be there at every step of the way to support her and assist her in achieving a near-complete recovery from the traumatic experiences that had befallen her in 2002**.

 **And return she would - to the job that (however she might appear) she actually enjoyed and excelled at.**

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 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 15 - "Aftermath " (part 25) and "Exhumation" (Part 26)**

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 **Readers - my final A/N for this chapter 15: I need your views.**

As my story moves into the latter stages of October 2003 vs canon, I don't plan to labour the details of the court processes of Mattie's adoption, because several preceding authors on this website have already written excellent treatments (such as "Giving it a try") of this process and the timescale/bureaucracy involved.

Now, I *would* be happy to generate my version (although there will be major similarities to previous fanfiction stories), *BUT* I'll need three specific requests to go deeper, in the reviews section, before Sunday 21-Oct-2018. Otherwise, I shall stick with my plan to just skate over Mattie's fostering/guardianship and eventual adoption by Harm and Terri. Your views are appreciated, so please let me know your thoughts. **Mike, Monday 01-Oct-2018**

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	16. Births : Comfortable shoes : Job dangers

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 16 - parts 27 and 28 and 29)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed. Expect new chapters around the first weekend of every month into 2019.

 **A/N:** Ch 16: A contrast of three storylines in one bumper episode as we recover from Hallowe'en. Following her rescue, we welcome Faith Coleman to her unplanned state of motherhood. We have a counterpoint to the traditional desire by " **the women of JAG** " (in canon), for " _a good man, a good job and comfortable shoes_ " and then Terri dodges a bullet, reflecting the dangers faced daily by law-enforcement officers. I would appreciate your views on whether this is too large an update, with three parts combined; I felt that the three parts hung together as one chapter without waiting a month for the next release, but would welcome your reviews.

 **A/N** : My grateful thanks to **MAJ8395** for the helpful debates around Yearwood lyrics and suitable songs for cell-phone ring-tones **.**

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 **Phase Sixteen of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Family Extended", "Comfortable shoes?" and "Dangers of the job"**

A/N 01-11-2018: ...and now, on with Chapter Sixteen. Life (and work) goes on; Faith's babies arrive; Teresa (almost) dodges a bullet. Then Harm and Terri meet Mattie for the first time.

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 **Chapter 16 - Part 27 - "Family - Extended - the births".**

 **Friday 14th February 2003 06:30hrs**

 **Sibley Maternal Foetal Medicine**

 **5255 Loughboro Rd NW, Washington, DC 20016**

One year to the day after her kidnapping, Faith Coleman unexpectedly went into labour in the early hours of the morning of Valentine's Day, to the surprise of several members of her support team. The event also came as a surprise to Faith herself; she had spent the preceding evening struggling with what she thought was indigestion - or a pulled muscle in her lower back!

As a result - and as was so often the case with expectant mothers - Faith arrived in L&D sleep-deprived, uncomfortable and grumpy!

However, she was alive - and that was the best revenge of all on the bastard who had kidnapped, imprisoned and impregnated her. She reached for Tracy Manetti's hand as the next contraction struck. As part of the " _Faith Coleman support group_ ", Tracy Manetti was the on-call member of the "sisterhood" that night when the call came in alerting them to Faith's waters having broken. She had then dashed across to Bethesda and took up station alongside Faith's bed by 06:08hrs.

Several female members of the JAG community had banded together in a mutual-support (and protection) group following Faith's original disappearance, in anticipation of the UnSub possibly targeting and then trying to take a (brunette or other) female Navy commander in the June of 2002 (Tracy had been uncomfortably aware of how she fitted the profile). The group had been re-energised in December when Faith was recovered and Tracy had made a point of building contacts with Faith (whom she had not actually met face-to-face prior to the kidnap, relying upon reputation only). The two single JAG Commanders had built a good relationship post-rescue and Faith had a long-standing offer from Tracy for a horse-riding weekend down in Kentucky at Tracy's parents' homestead and ranch.

Precisely because she was single and didn't have children, Tracy was perfectly matched to support Faith on her trip to the delivery room - like Faith, she also didn't know what was coming, either, so they could share the surprises! By 10:30hrs, she was regretting not bringing protective gloves - Faith had spent time, during her bed-rest, re-building her pre-kidnap manicure following her rescue, so her contractions were causing her to squeeze Tracy's unprotected hands - hard!

Tracy wasn't unduly upset by Faith's discomfort and periodic screaming - Daddy's stables in Kentucky were the scene of regular horse deliveries as new foals were born and Tracy had been on hand to help with the deliveries of the children of her three brothers' wives. However, this was the first time that her hands had suffered so much; Tracy gritted her teeth and continued to support Faith, who was - after all - doing the truly hard work.

As the first child made its appearance at 12:58hrs, Tracy focussed once more on the interesting range of new swear words flowing from Faith Coleman's mouth. As the pressure on her hand abated momentarily, Tracy threw her head back and laughed; how could such a well-educated woman as Faith (previously known throughout JAG West Coast as " _little Miss prim and proper_ ") possibly have learned such a wide range of "Anglo-Saxon" expletives? Tracy then found herself cursing Harmon Rabb for escaping to Memphis with his wife, on this precise day when "Team Faith" might have needed him.

Tracy handed over after lunchtime to Carolyn Imes, who had cleared her court schedule in order to cover the afternoon "shift" at Faith's bedside. The flame-haired attorney took up station alongside Faith's bed, gazing in amazement at the recently-arrived first child.

"Does it give you any ideas, Carolyn?" asked Faith, resting between contractions and gazing, still, in wonderment at the first child to have emerged from her body.

Carolyn shuddered theatrically, smoothed her skirt and replied "Oh heavens no! For sure, I very much enjoy the occasional practice sessions, Faith, but no way do I fancy the stretchmarks". Faith smiled; her recent prodigious use of coconut butter skin cream since her release from the dungeon had left her skin in very good condition and she was quite hopeful of being able to wear a bikini during the coming summer; she was also growing in confidence of another natural delivery, following the safe and uncomplicated arrival of the first of her two children. The obstetricians had previously pronounced themselves satisfied, before the birth, with the placement of both the twins. Nevertheless, Faith would only be happy when she had both of her babies suckling at her breasts.

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In fairness to Harm and Terri, there was a very good and understandable reason for their absence. Long before Valentine's night and even before Faith's recovery, Terri and Harm had (with Faith's blessing) planned a three-night Valentine's break away in Memphis, leaving Frank and Trisha to play the part of doting grandparents as they babysat the two Coulter-Rabb children. David was, by now, eight months old and onto formula, whilst Ellen was four years old. Terri had wanted to renew her acquaintance with her former home city and a few of her former colleagues at Memphis PD, so she and Harm had flown down after work on the Thursday night.

Faith had wanted them to enjoy their long-planned weekend away, so she had been very insistent that no-one alerted Terri and Harm as they enjoyed their Valentine's weekend away in Memphis (leaving aside the logistical nightmare of getting them back to DC at short notice). " _They have been wonderfully supportive friends throughout my nightmare and they deserve this Valentine's weekend away, so I shall catch up with them after the weekend excitement_ ". The hospital staff and her supporting friends all respected Faith's wishes.

Extending the principle of fairness, Faith had known that the uncertainty about her insemination date meant that there would always be uncertainty as to the likely delivery date, but Faith was crying exhausted tears of joy when her second child emerged, naturally at 16:07hrs on February 14th. Faith rejoiced, because it meant that she now had a happy, positive pair of reasons to remember Valentine's Day every year - **Daniel Richard Terence Coleman** and **Hope Alison Teresa Coleman**.

Despite the residual pain and the exhaustion, Faith was glad (and relieved) to have avoided the need for a C-section; Terri's words of encouragement, that first night in the hospital after her rescue, had reassured the first-time mom that she would be able to deliver her babies naturally. As a result, Faith was already planning her exercise regimen - " _typical over-achiever_ " in Terri's eyes!

Faith had chosen the names _**Richard**_ and **_Hope_** in honour of her late parents, along with _**Alison**_ in honour of the slain Alison Krennick, whom Faith regarded as one of her " _sisters in adversity_ " although they had obviously never actually met. All the forensic and sightings evidence had confirmed that Alison had been slain and frozen in 1996-97, at least four long years before Faith was drugged and abducted - or had even thought of leaving San Diego for the TAD with the Admiral's JAG HQ in Falls Church.

 **Monday 17th February 2003 19:07hrs**

 **Sibley Maternal Foetal Medicine**

 **5255 Loughboro Rd NW, Washington, DC 20016**

The " _Terence and Teresa_ " tributes were not lost on Terri when she and Harm visited Faith on the Monday evening three days later, following their return from Memphis. They had telephoned Faith for an update as they waited to board their return flight from Memphis, heard the news from Carolyn Imes about the births and had then headed straight to Bethesda after landing back into Dulles. Tracy (who had returned to share the evening shift with Harriet) was delighted to help by keeping Ellie and David distracted whilst Harm and Terri both hugged and congratulated Faith on her new arrivals.

They were pleased to see her so relaxed and they agreed to make a longer visit the following evening. Faith also reaffirmed her decision to keep wearing her "wedding" ring until the conclusion of her captor's trial - she rationalised that, until he had been sentenced, she was still trapped by her links to the pervert and his bizarre idea of relationships with women. The twins' birth was also documented by the court case team, so that "Momma Faith" would have all the documentary evidence needed to build a safe and secure life for her children as they grew up in future years. DNA samples were, once more, taken following the births - this was a requirement for the upcoming court proceedings.

 **Tuesday 18th February 2003, 18:30hrs**

 **Sibley Maternal Foetal Medicine**

 **5255 Loughboro Rd NW, Washington, DC 20016**

The following Tuesday evening, as Faith finished her successful feat of breast-feeding both of her four-day-old babies simultaneously (to the amazement and admiration of her nursing team who were accustomed to the mothers of twins usually undertaking "one at a time" feedings), the proud new mother asked Terri a question which surprised Terri and, at the same time, convinced her of the indomitable durability of the human spirit.

 **"Terri, would you and Harm be god-parents to my twins please?"**

Terri gasped in pleasure and hugged Faith. "Oh Faith, yes; in fact, yes *please* - we would be honoured. Thank you".

Once more, the rescuer and the former hostage hugged warmly. After the task of feeding and burping was completed, Terri helped Faith place her babies into their bassinets alongside Faith's bed. Within two minutes, Daniel and Hope were sound asleep. Ten minutes later, their mother followed them into a deep, relaxed sleep, with one hand in each bassinet. Terri couldn't work out how Faith could achieve that relaxed pose, but the new mother was definitely asleep with her arms spread in perfect symmetry - and she then began snoring gently after five minutes.

Terri looked down at the scene before her and smiled. Faith Coleman's unexpected and irresistible transition to motherhood (and the need to look forward positively and to protect her babies) could be the very thing that would save her from all the disruption which had occurred (and was continuing to occur) to her previously well-ordered life, rigidly-focussed life.

Additionally - and crucially - Faith now had all the supporters necessary to assure a successful transition and she would never fall into the category of a lonely, struggling single mother - because her wide circle of friends and admirers cared too much for her.

 **As it would turn out, the civil court case which would occur in the aftermath of the criminal case relating to the "Motherhood Killer" would deliver benefits far beyond Faith's wildest imaginings - but that lay some time in the future.**

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 **Monday 24th February 2003, 16:15hrs EST**

 **Suite B35; Sibley Maternal Foetal Medicine**

 **5255 Loughboro Rd NW, Washington, DC 20016**

"Morning Terri, nice to see you again. I'm here for Faith".

Lt Cdr Tara Medwick introduced herself and began her assignment, from Vera McCool's team, to provide professional support to Faith.

Having just returned from maternity leave herself, Tara had been selected by the US Navy following extensive research. The US Navy had wanted to find a psychology graduate (and ideally a new mom) who would be most-closely matched, compatible and attuned to support Commander Faith Marie Coleman and her two recently-arrived children. Tara Medwick proved to be that perfect match.

Tara had met with Terri in Bethesda the previous day, away from Faith's room, to "read herself in" to the case files. Tara was certain that, with the right level of help, Faith would be able to overcome the effects of everything that had been done to her - even the shattering loss of control which came with having no say in the process of impregnation and pregnancy. Tara's first step was to gain Faith's trust and confidence.

Fortunately Tara and Faith (they barely needed Terri in the background after the first hour, much to Terri's relief as she watched the two women bond) hit it off from the first moment and the structure of " _Team Faith_ " coalesced around this pairing. Faith was officially on long-term sick leave from the Navy and any discussions regarding her future return to service, career path, career options were tabled _sine die_ by the JAG Corps (the decision was deferred indefinitely, literally " _without day_ " in effect by the Admiral). This brave woman had too much to get through (with rescue and childbirth being followed by the upcoming court case) without worrying about her naval career options.

Tara's husband, David "Tuna" Medwick, had flown F-14s with Harm during their Tomcat-driving days and thus it became easy and unforced for dinner parties to be arranged in Faith's hospital room during her initial post-partum recovery and later in the comfort of her suite in the longer-term rehabilitation wing at Bethesda. Not one single person, ever, formed a view that Faith did not deserve the best, most-complete level of care and support. Additionally, not one woman who came into contact with Faith (and not one of the men, either) had any desire to go through what had befallen Faith.

"Our Faith" was becoming a role-model, whether she liked it or not.

This also meant that Faith's life wasn't ever going to get " _back to normal_ " after the kidnap, the imprisonment and the pregnancies. However, as one of her girlfriends said wisely: " _life gets back to different_ ". Faith could only nod in agreement as she concentrated on achieving that best outcome.

Terri gladly took a step back from her workload on "Project Faith" and was able to concentrate on her main "day job" at the FBI, where her skills were still in short supply in the post-9/11 world. Rapid recruitment of new agents was not overcoming the "experience gap" - where Terri and her senior colleagues were in semi-permanent demand to help "season" the new agents as they flooded out of FLETC. This had the effect of periodically dragging Terri away from DC, her husband and their children, yet it was an imposition which "Team Coulter-Rabb" took in their stride - Harm and Terri knew that they were blessed with their lifestyle and family life, therefore they were sanguine about accepting the interruptions which dragged them away to assist other teams within their respective organisations.

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 **Monday 17th March 2003, 11:00hrs EST**

 **Suite 5, "M" deck, Bethesda (aka "Walter Reed") Naval Hospital, 8901 Rockville Pike, Bethesda, Maryland;**

"Good morning Harm, great to see you again - and not on an aircraft carrier investigating a missing RIO. I guess from the description and the wedding ring that you must be Terri - Hi, I'm Duncan, we spoke when I phoned your home after an introduction from Chuck DePalma. I'm here for Faith".

"Hey Duncan, great to see you again too - I understand that Chuck has explained to you the need for discretion?" asked Harm as he shook the newcomer's hand.

A Hollywood script writer (introduced by Chuck DePalma from ZNN, who had met Harm as a 16-year-old in Vietnam and then again as a young JAG lawyer on the USS "SeaHawk" in 1995), Duncan began to court Faith - in a deliberately low-key and vague " _let's see how this works out in due course_ " way - seeking to build a case for a " _made-for-tv_ " documentary of action-soap based upon Faith's experiences. During their discussions, the potential working title of "JAG" was mooted for the TV programme as the ghost-writer began sketching out ideas with Faith.

Faith had appointed Harm to protect her interests with a watching brief of " _I don't object in principle, but wait until the murder/kidnap court case is over plus I want to build a financial legacy for my babies"_ and she insisted on anonymity (as she described it: "I want to see the old ' _names have been changed to protect the guilty_ ' disclaimer at every stage of the production").

The JAG had signed off on Faith's case, becoming involved because the Admiral wished to ensure that the image of the US Navy was protected as much as possible in the TV production. The Admiral had memories of several cases over the years, including a spitting teenager and Juanita Ressler's famous defeat at the hands of Mac - her former student - when TV cameras had last been allowed into the JAG court-room.

After checking first with Terri for her blessing (and thereby showing that he *had* learned his lesson about running off on "Peter Pan" errands), Harm also made contact with his former acquaintance and on-off girlfriend Rene Petersen, picking her brains regarding getting the best out of Hollywood. It turned out that Rene had married her mortician school-friend and was blissfully happy as a wife and mother of twin boys. Harm effected an introduction of Rene to Faith.

Rene was a useful source of intel and was also able to set Faith's mind at rest about how well a "made-for-TV" series could be constructed (along with reassuring both Terri and Harm about how to protect Faith's interests and her anonymity). During her visit, she also enthusiastically endorsed Harm's choice of Terri for his life-long mate and the two women swapped " _let's embarrass Harm_ " stories during one long (and slightly alcoholic) Saturday lunchtime meeting in DC!

Meanwhile, in the background, the prosecution case against "UNSub94" was continuing inexorably through the various legal arguments and roadblocks which were being erected by UNSub94's defence team (as was his right and their duty). More than a year had now passed since Faith's abduction and three months had passed since her liberation. Her babies were in their fifth week of life.

Of course, neither US Navy female commanders nor USAF female colonels had been kidnapped since the apprehension of the "Motherhood Killer". Not even a "copycat" was dumb enough to follow his MO.

 **Saturday 12th April 2003, 13:00hrs EST**

 **Suite 5, "M" deck, Bethesda (aka "Walter Reed") Naval Hospital, 8901 Rockville Pike, Bethesda, Maryland;**

Terri's phone rang out with the song which she had picked for her Tomcat - the Trisha Yearwood song " ** _wrong side of Memphis_** ". Terri had originally wanted to use " _She's in love with the boy_ ", but the lyrics (involving a disapproving father) were completely at odds with the very high admiration in which Thomas Chaddock held Harm. So " _Memphis_ " it was.

"Hey darling; I'm about five minutes out - caught a bit of traffic; just in sight of the hospital parking lot if I use a telescope".

"OK Tomcat, we'll wait for you; see ya soon. We'll hold off cutting the cake until you arrive".

Faith's 35th birthday celebrations were a low-key event, coming just eight weeks after she had given birth. Nevertheless, with the improving weather, a small birthday party was held in one of the sheltered gardens within the Bethesda complex; just the sniff of fresh outside air lifted Faith's spirits and she was able to point out the sun in the sky to her twins. Whether the eight-week-old twins realised was another matter.

As always, Terri was there to assist and support, as she did on several weekday evenings between duty (and home) commitments and on at least one day every weekend. Terri was delivering on her promise made to Faith in the immediate aftermath of the rescue at the mine - and her commitment was fully-supported by Harm.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

Not even the subsequent discovery of Loren Singer's badly-decomposed body in late April would cause much disturbance to Faith's continuing joy at having two healthy little children as the outcome of her year in hell. She had barely met the prickly, self-centred and career-obsessed blonde JAG and she had been largely out of it (recovering from captivity) when Loren had dealt with the dismissal of the UA case in December after the case had hit the headlines for all the wrong reasons.

NCIS carried out the Singer investigation, which eventually snared Teddy Lindsey as the guilty party, despite his efforts to throw mud in the direction of Harm. NCIS Agent Tony DiNozzo was instrumental in finally cracking the case and nailing Lindsey, with his famous " _You know why I like nailing doctors and lawyers? Because they over-think their crimes_ " quotation as he arrested Lindsey. Ensign Teddy Lindsey eventually disappeared towards Kansas, in the direction of the military penitentiary at Leavenworth.

Some time later, Harm would visit Loren's grave, on a quiet hillside overlooking a wooded stream. It was a peaceful place for her to rest for eternity, he thought. Although he and Loren had butted heads on a few occasions, he had to admire her self-confidence and her assured pursuit of her life goals; in a way, she had reminded him of Terri, but he knew that he had married the right feisty blonde. Loren Singer slowly faded from the collective memory along, sadly, with her unborn foetus and her convicted killer, Teddy Lindsey. Although the parentage of Loren's baby was unproven, Harm had a naïve longing that Sergei could have been the father. Whatever the truth, Loren was definitely at peace after the horrific manner of her death and subsequent disappearance.

When he had discussed these thoughts with Terri, she had shown her love and wisdom by hugging him and kissing him, then accompanying him on a day-trip, with Ellie and David, back to jointly visit Loren's headstone and grave on the quiet hillside.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

At eight weeks, little Hope Coleman was beginning to show evidence of a rich head of black hair - following her mother's gene pool - whilst Daniel Coleman was showing signs of a bright coppery ginger hair colour and the first sign of freckles. Together in terms of behaviour, the twins were growing up to follow their mother, upon whom they were still very largely dependent. Faith drew considerable comfort from the differing hair colouring of her two children. The paternal half of the gene pool would have no bearing on how *her* children would be brought up.

Terri was a firm believer in the old Chinese adage that: " _if you save someone's life, you are responsible for them_ ". She intended - along with Harm - to honour that commitment to Faith Coleman and her babies.

By the end of May, Faith's exercise regime was beginning to bear fruit, both in the gym and out on the running paths; she asked for a more-specialised pair of jogging shoes as her distances began to stretch and her speeds increased. The "jogging JAG" of the past was returning, as Gibbs reminded Faith when he dropped by to visit her and to admire her new babies!

Gibbs (as happened often when he visited friends, colleagues or acquaintances in hospital) also presented Faith with a knife and introduced her to Rule 9.

Following several discussions over a couple of days, Tara was eventually able to dissuade Faith from ordering a "jogging baby stroller" in which she could have pushed her babies in front of her as she ran - some things looked like blatant "over-achievement"!

However, just four months on from her rescue the good news and Faith's progress was very clear. It was now obvious to everyone to all that Faith was well on the road to recovery in all aspects of her life - physical, mental and spiritual. She was regaining her previous fitness levels after ten months chained up in the hell-hole and she was adoring (and thriving in) her new role as a mother to two young babies.

The 400-pound gorilla in the room was the trial date; the legal arguments continued unabated in the background, so Faith and Tara and Terri simply tuned them out. The case would come to trial at a time - and in a place - of the judicial system's choosing; so for now, Terri had bad guys to catch, deaths to investigate and a lovely husband and children to worry about.

 **The importance and value of her husband and her family life would shortly be driven home to Terri on a case which landed out of the blue.**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 16 - Part 28 - "Comfortable shoes?".**

 **Saturday 17th May 2003 - 11:43hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

"Oh great, they've arrived!"

Terri thanked the UPS delivery driver and carried her parcel into the family room; Ellie wandered over to view the newly-arrived package, because even as a four-year-old she knew that parcels sometimes meant gifts! The enthusiastic four-year-old sat at her mom's feet as Terri slit open the sealing tape. Dar-Lin tagged along, a half-pace behind.

Dar-Lin had been spending the occasional weekends with Harm and Terri since the start of the year, whilst Jackie and Alan Mattoni dealt with a couple of minor healthcare issues resulting from Annabelle's birth just before Thanksgiving in 2000 (just a few short weeks after Dar-Lin's seventh birthday). The arrangement (made with Dar-Lin's full involvement, understanding and agreement) gave the Mattoni family a little extra time to focus on Annabelle - plus, of course, the arrangement let Dar-Lin spend time with the two lovely grown-up people who she knew had tracked her down, found her and released her from the hell of that locked room back in 1999.

The adopted daughter of Alan and Jackie Mattoni had blossomed in their care and had welcomed the arrival of her little sister Annabelle into "my family" with joy and no resentment. Alan and Jackie had been mightily relieved - Jackie's unexpected pregnancy had upended their ordered lifestyle and the immense efforts which they had lined up in order to settle Dar-Lin into the bosom of their then-childfree family. As Alan had recounted to Harm over a rare beer one evening after work during Jackie's pregnancy: "I stand in bewildered awe of just how flexible and adaptable children are - just the other day, Dar-Lin wrapped her arms around Jackie's middle and kissed her 'bump' saying 'I'm ready to welcome you, little baby' as though it was the most natural thing in the world".

Both families always made a point of gathering at Annie's gravesite every February 24th, marking the anniversaries of her 1999 murder. The gatherings in 2000, 2001, 2002 and 2003 had established the tradition. The chief Chaplain of the Navy (now with his wife and their own imminent arrival) had made a point of joining the ceremony each year. Annie would never be forgotten. November 5th in this year of 2003 - the 10th birthday for Dar-Lin and Annie - was already planned to be marked with a special party which would include a graveside service of remembrance.

"We now have the last parts of my costume for next week at Maison Mattoni, Tomcat" called Terri as Harm brought the mugs of coffee out from the kitchen, on a tray with juice for Ellie and ten-month-old David. Terri's chosen character for the fancy dress was a pistol-packin' " _Annie Oakley_ " creation, which Dar-Lin and Ellie had helped to design over the preceding month since the invitation from the Mattoni family had arrived.

He smiled back: "Well, I have the entire sheriff's outfit ready, so Dar-Lin is going to enjoy dressing up and greeting everyone in that-thar ol' time western saloon that they are creating for the party.".

Harm looked across as Terri stood up with the box in her hands. "So - which final bit of the costume has arrived?" he asked.

Terri unpacked a pair of gleaming black, calf-length, lace-up leather boots and inspected them. Sitting on the floor at her mother's feet, Ellie looked up and pointed to the boots. Terri had already found - and cleaned - the "cowgirl" hat which she had worn to their first date back in April 1998 - somehow, it had survived multiple cross-country flights and the house moves!

"Look mommy, tippee-tappee-toes" she squealed.

Dar-Lin joined in: "Tippee-tappee-toes, auntie Teresa".

Harm looked puzzled. "Tippee tappy toes?" he asked.

Terri sighed and rested her free hand on her forehead in a sign of exasperation, then smiled at him. "You can thank young Miss Mattoni for this idea!" she smiled.

"Young Miss... oh, you mean Dar-Lin? Why so formal?" Harm was catching up - he looked down at Dar-Lin and smiled; she smiled back warmly.

"Yes, Dar-Lin. She saw the pictures of the can-can dancers with their flounce skirts, corsets, wide scarves - and pointy-toed boots - and so she wanted Auntie Teresa to choose that for her costume." She sighed and showed Harm the soles of the boots with their wickedly-pointed toes. "So my feet are going to need a bit of TLC at the end of the party, but I got the boots delivered for today so that I can break them in this weekend around the house and maybe during next week in the Hoover Building; I reckon they'll be near-invisible under a pant-suit this week, so I can break them in perfectly"; she hoped that she had enough time - the leather looked quite stiff and unyielding.

She showed him the solid construction of the soles and the well-attached pompadour heel (perfect to withstand the rigours of dancing), all in gleaming black leather.

Harm smiled at his daughter's enthusiasm (and his lovely wife's forbearance), then asked Terri the seven-hundred-dollar question (he had noticed the invoice in the box): "Well, do they fit?"

Terri sat down with the boots on her lap, then removed the packing and loose-laced up the boots. "Well, they should be OK to dance the can-can if the mood takes me" she laughed, easing her feet into the brand-new footwear. She stood up, balancing on the pompadour heels, nodded approvingly and then sat down again to lace them up tightly, prior to beginning the process of breaking in her new footwear by walking around the house.

"Wow, with this good-quality leather, these really do support my calves - but I can already feel that I'll need to bed them in. Harm, I promised Dar-Lin that we would do a trial run of the complete costume after lunch. I may need your help closing the corset - oh, remind me to find and order spare laces on the Axfords website for the corset when we're online later".

"Just tell me when and where, ma'am" Harm replied eagerly. "I'm ready to start polishing once you've walked around the carpets and are content that the boots will fit."

"Well, so far so good and the company that I bought them from have now supplied me with ten pairs of good-fitting (and well-made) shoes and boots this year, so the signs are good." Terri headed off to sit down, comfortable that her feet had settled into the boots. Terri was proving the mantra that every woman wants " _a good man, a good job and lots of shoes - comfortable shoes_ ". Looking at the pointed toe profile of Terri's new boots, Harm wondered just how far "comfort" would intrude into Teresa's calculations - but hey, he wasn't the one who would be wearing them. He just had to create and then maintain a military-grade shine on the leather.

" _She's bought ten pairs inside five months?_ " Harm thought to himself then wisely decided to remain silent about his wife's "retail therapy". He followed the tradition established by generations of married men, when faced with wifely purchases of clothing or shoes: " _Don't go there!_ "

He thought back to the shoes which Terri had worn on the night of their first social meeting on that spectacular night in Arizona - which had alerted him, early on in their friendship, to the fact that his Teresa was a woman who took pride in the "finishing touches" to her outfits, from crown of head to tip of toe. Harm reflected on this consideration as he listened to her heels tapping along the hallway and up the staircase, then clicking back down the hallway as she returned to the living room. She stood in front of Harm, with her heels together and looked down at her feet.

"Yep, these seem fine; I just need to tighten up the laces on the left leg and they will be perfect, but I'll pull on a thicker pair of Wolfords in the morning. Because we may be dancing at the Mattoni party next weekend I definitely need to bed them in, so as I said I'll aim to wear these for work next week - so, Mister polishing man, I'll need them polished first please ahead of my going in to work on Monday. I'll put a piece of carpet in the car to protect the backs of the heels if I'm driving in them".

"No problem darling: now, do you want to try the whole ' _Annie Oakley_ ' outfit before or after lunch - I know that you'd said after, but would that be a good idea, dressing up on a full stomach with a corset being tightened around you?"

Terri thought for a moment: "hmm, good thought, Tomcat!" She looked at Dar-Lin: "Corset before lunch or corset after lunch? Definitely on an empty stomach please!" Dar-Lin nodded her support.

Terri turned back to Harm. "Then let's try the outfit on now; then after we have all eaten, I'll make coffee whilst you start polishing".

 **But on Monday morning, as she stepped into the FBI HQ with her new boots concealed beneath a pair of dress pants, the task of bedding in new footwear was about to become the very least of Terri's problems...…**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 16 - Part 29 - "Dangers of the job".**

 **Monday 19th May 2003, 08:31hrs EST**

 **Office of Agent Teresa Coulter-Rabb, F.R.O.D.O. unit,**

 **FBI HQ, J Edgar Hoover Building, Washington DC**

Terri's Forensic Research Oversight & Development Office (aka "F.R.O.D.O.") at the FBI received a sudden visitor at opening time on the Monday morning. As she was logging into her desktop PC, her Assistant Director knocked on her office door, then invited herself in, accompanied by a bribe - in the form of two coffees.

Terri looked up at Angela: "Uh-oh, interview with coffee - somebody wants something from Auntie Teresa - good morning Boss!" Angela was one of the youngest ADs in the Bureau (and her promotion was definitely made on merit, Terri was pleased to note) and had already earned Terri's respect as her boss. In truth, the two women had discovered that they were barely a year apart in ages. Terri joked that Angela had the "FBI chip in her neck" from university days, where she had been recruited.

"Darn, busted"; Angela gave an easy smile as she handed over Terri's coffee, then the two women sat down around the glass meeting table in Terri's team room.

"Right then Terri, we've had a formal request from Seattle regarding a suspected serial. You saw the case file as Duty ME yesterday, right? Well, unfortunately Serena Matthews in PACNW broke her arm water-skiing yesterday and the local LEOs are just unearthing evidence that this is definitely the work of another serial in southern Washington State. Sorry Terri, I need you out in the Pacific Northwest for a week".

"Hey boss, the only question is the duration of this posting; I'm breaking in these boots for a costume party at the weekend, so I will go on condition that I am home by Friday night".

"Deal - get back for Friday night (maybe late, but Friday for sure); hey, neat boots by the way, I'm looking for a similar pair when my playhouse group put on "Oklahoma" in the autumn, so let me know if you rate the supplier".

"Will do Boss; so far they arrived in good order, are well-made and my Tomcat has already managed to get the first two coats of polish onto them so I can wear them in and break them in ahead of the weekend. But if you're dancing in ' _Oklahoma_ ' you might want wider toes!" Terri suddenly returned to reality. "Anyway - getting to Seattle early on a Monday morning, Boss?"

"Yep, there is a Gulfstream on standby - wheels up in 90 so you'll be chasing the sun across country - have you got your go-bag?"

Terri reached down the side of her desk and picked up the handles of her ever-ready bag.

"Yep boss, good to go".

"OK, take young Grishenko as your 'bag-carrier' - she needs seasoning and she's originally from Seattle, so her local knowledge might help you".

Just over an hour later, as the team strapped themselves into the comfortable "flying armchairs" of the Gulfstream, Terri relaxed - then looked down at her feet and groaned.

Her colleague - a recent graduate of FLETC, a ginger-haired young woman called Mary Grishenko - looked up from her notepad. "Problem, doc?"

"Not really, I guess - I dashed out of the house this morning straight to the hoover Building and I'm breaking in these new boots for a costume party at the weekend. Unfortunately I've forgotten to pack a pair of flats or courts into my go-bag, ready to fly in. Oh brother, these are going to hurt by the end of the day".

Mary leaned across and patted Terri's hand. "Oh well, too late now, doc. But I know where we can drop by on our way in from SEA-TAC to the field office - Payless Discount Shoe Store".

The two women laughed as the Gulfstream gathered speed on the runway before rotating and heading skywards on its transcontinental mission.

Later in the flight, Terri noticed the sun glinting on the silver ring on the ring finger of Mary's hand. "That's a nice wedding band - did you have it custom made or was it a surprise from your husband?"

Mary smiled shyly and held out her hand. "No Doc, it isn't a wedding band because I am not married. I am part of the "Silver Ring Thing" promise programme; this is my promise ring and, on this other hand I have my 'True Love Waits" triple ring". Terri inspected both rings and was impressed with the detail and effort which had gone into the ring design. Personally, she wasn't certain that wearing a ring with biblical references on one hand, matched with a slogan engraved on the ring on the other hand was going to assure abstinence. However, if it worked for young Mary Grishenko, she wasn't going to argue.

On landing, the Gulfstream taxied to a private hangar, minimising the disembarkation interruptions; the investigators were soon heading for the local PD HQ - via a short detour to Mary's suggested shoe store. The selected riding-style knee-length boots might not have met Terri's ideal desires, but they were cheap, gave her feet and toes a rest from the "tippy-toes" laced-up boots that she had flown in and would be more than adequate for the coming week of walking around potential crime scenes. She could pair them up with trousers or a skirt. She also picked up a simple pair of black patent-leather courts, which would go with anything including a USN uniform - her shoe collection would continue to grow! The rest of the day was taken up with reviewing the evidence gathered and conducting a first autopsy. Terri was able to borrow scrubs and a pair of clogs for her work in the local morgue.

Monday night saw a determined effort by all members of the impromptu team to get acquainted and to forget, for a couple of hours, the horrors that awaited them on this case; the local bar provided comforting evening food. The site of the crime scene hadn't been properly catalogued yet - that joyful task lay ahead for the morning.

 **Tuesday 20th May 2003, 08:28hrs PST**

 **Crime site, abandoned hotel in Kelso, Washington State**

Terri was expecting to be spending up to a week in the northwest corner of the USA, assisting colleagues out of the Seattle office with another serial killer case. She had flown out from DC on the FBI Gulfstream on the Monday morning and had spent the rest of the day checking out the lab and reading through the case files as they stood. It was this period of preparation - as it turned out - which was to save Terri's life.

Learning from the AAR following Terri's experience in the West Virginia coalfields during Faith Coleman's rescue (whereby she had found it necessary to borrow an NCIS ballistic vest and then collect a standard-issue sidearm from the HRT helo), the FBI SOPs for short-notice raids had changed. This well-meaning policy modification meant that every agent on a raid or an investigation was to be fully equipped before they headed out to any investigative site. For Terri and her colleagues, this meant more time in body armour and a need to re-qualify on the FBI standard SIG 9mm handgun, which she customarily wore in a webbing holster at her waist when attending an investigation. Terri's previous Tennessee upbringing naturally guaranteed her a "Sharpshooter Expert" classification and she had promptly re-qualified in the FBI range under the Hoover Building.

This time, Terri had left her Desert Eagle at home for the Seattle case.

Mary Grishenko was ideally suited to be Terri's local escort this week. As a Seattle native, she had introduced Terri briefly to the Seattle area and had then driven her south to the body dump, which had been discovered in the basement below the ballroom of an abandoned hotel on the edge of town in a little town called Kelso, near Mount St Helens, about 125 miles south of Seattle, alongside the I-5 to Portland OR.

The abandoned hotel sat on the edge of open country. The first body had been discovered after wild animal activity on the Saturday night and the local field office had called for help during the Sunday. As Duty FBI ME, Terri had dealt with the call and then, on reviewing the case on the Sunday afternoon, had been ready when the formal call for assistance arrived following the unforeseen injury to the local FBI expert as she had been water-skiing out on Puget Sound.

A variety of dead men and women were discovered, all well-dressed ("almost ready for church" had been Terri's first impression) and handcuffed back to back in couples - and then executed with what looked (based on the damage to the skulls) to be around a .44 Magnum weapon through the forehead. Terri had viewed the first body on the examination table in the Kelso PD morgue and had then started to move deeper into the building, following Mary.

It was at this moment that Terri came as close as she ever had, to losing her life; and it stemmed from a simple oversight by another FBI team. Sadly, the on-site team had carried out a less-than-complete search of the site on the previous day, as they looked for the UnSub. This had allowed him to remain concealed in a hidden suite of self-contained rooms within the abandoned hotel - and this oversight was to cost Mary her life and bring Terri perilously close to meeting her Maker.

The UnSub had been spotted as Terri and Mary worked their way around the building's darkened corridors - the FBI lighting techs were struggling to source enough light units. Suddenly, Terri was vaguely aware of shouting and doors banging elsewhere in the abandoned hotel building as she followed Mary into the darkness of the corridor leading down below the ballroom where evidence was being gathered and processed.

Walking in the dark about a yard behind Mary and carrying her forensic case in her right hand, she held her torch high in her left hand, lighting Mary's way over the shoulder of the shorter agent. The light from Terri's torch illuminated the side of Mary's head as well as the floor in front - inadvertently making Mary an easy target. Mary turned to speak with Terri as she picked her way through the debris on the floor, momentarily blinded by Terri's torch as she turned her head to speak.

"Terri, I'll go and ask what the source of that noise is, then I'll...…"

Mary got no further; a large-calibre round impacted the left side of her head. just ahead of her ear, exploding catastrophically inside her head and showering Terri with the contents. Terri dropped her torch, which rolled away under the cabinet on her left. As Mary's dying body stopped walking and the knees crumpled, Terri realised that she was now standing where Mary had been at the moment that she had been shot. In the dark, something heavy slammed into Terri's side through her windcheater, roughly level with the belt-line on her trousers as she tripped over Mary's body. Quickly regaining her equilibrium and planting her feet firmly, she dropped her medical case, turned to her left, drawing and unsafing her SIG and raising it into a firing stance as she peered cautiously into the ballroom. She had chambered a round on arriving at the site - per SOP - and her weapon was now ready to roar.

She stared into the sunlit pool of floor in the ballroom - and its armed occupant standing, brightly illuminated, amongst the autopsy tables. The little insignificant man with the hand-cannon seemed surprised that she was still standing as she shouted at him. He had hit her on her body armour because her lower body had been protected by furniture - someone was looking out for Teresa today! He obviously had expected her to be dead or dying, a realisation which caused him to hesitate for the nanosecond that Terri needed to sight and fire at his centre of mass as his face grimaced with hatred and he swung his arm back into her direction; there was no time to get smart in her aiming as she faced square-on to the bad guy. Under her feet, she felt her heels rocking on something loose (afterwards, she would discover that it was a piece of carpet, already soaked in Mary's blood).

Even years later, Terri struggled to remember the sequence of the shooting. She obviously got her first and second rounds away and bang on target, because the bad guy dropped dead after getting one more shot off at her. But her hands were together in the shooting stance when his next (and final) .44 magnum round hit her through the "B" in the "FBI" logo across her chest as her right foot slipped, throwing her backwards and down a (very!) short flight of two steps, wrecking the back of her FBI windcheater as she landed on an old roll of hotel carpet and jarring her left shoulder as she landed very awkwardly. She regained her senses as she lay flat on her back, SIG on the ground and with a strong sense of gratitude, based on her spread-eagled posture, that she had not been wearing a skirt that day! The round which hit her chest had, miraculously, avoided tearing her hands and arms to pieces on its journey into Terri's chest. In exchange, she had hit the UnSub in the heart and through the forehead, permanently eliminating the risk of him firing again.

The rest of the team were quickly on the scene in response to the sound of gunfire, after which time it was necessary for her to sit - as required - outside the ballroom, weapon cleared, to await the arrival of Internal Affairs from OPC who had, somewhat fortuitously, been on-site in the FBI field offices in Portland, just an hour to the south (instead of Seattle, two hours to the north on a really good day). They attended, took ownership of her FBI weapon and took charge of the investigation into her agent-involved shooting. It was just SOP, but it was a pain - the teams from the Office of Professional Conduct were a good bunch to have on your side when the brown stuff hit the fan!

She handed over her torn and bloodstained windcheater and her battered and scuffed ballistic vest into evidence bags, pausing only to retain the velcro'ed "FBI" badge with its bullet hole through the "B" for her home collection. Her black pants were unlikely to recover from the debris which had been ground into them by her failed back-flip down the stairs! Fortunately, her boots had supported her ankles as she had struggled to stay upright and again as she fell backwards and, apart from a few scuffs, would be fit for another day. Tomcat would be getting out the polish again! As she looked down at her neat toe-caps, she realised that there was a miasma of blood and brain-matter spread across both boots (as well, she realised, as the legs of her trousers).

She realised that she would have to do some basic cleaning before handing her new boots to Harm. This discovery was another reason why her black trousers would also need to be incinerated as well - in daylight, she could see that although most of her simple white blouse had been quite well-protected by the ballistic vest and her windcheater, the collar was soaked with blood and spray from Mary's execution. In short, she'd be able to put a bra, panties and (perhaps) stockings into the laundry, but everything else she was wearing was definitely and visibly ruined. Her colleagues suggested that she wash her face (after cataloguing by IA) before she looked in a mirror. One of the techs made a frivolous comment about "Hallowe'en come early".

Within an hour, her elbow had started to hurt more seriously - Terri had obviously spread the impact of her back-flip along her body as she landed during the shooting which had claimed Mary's life.

She chuckled to herself. " _Oh well, at least I only cost my boss a couple of jackets: Harm went through Tomcats at £40-million a pop_!"

She looked down sadly at the wreckage of what had been Mary's body as the CSIs gathered and photographed the evidence of Mary's demise before bringing in the body-bag; young, eager, intelligent, vibrant, fully-trained, virginal - and dead. She sighed - there was obviously going to be a closed-casket service at Mary's funeral and she (together with the SAC in Seattle who had been Mary's boss) would need to dissuade Mary's parents from arranging a viewing at the funeral parlour when Mary eventually made her final journey home. Terri had conducted enough head-shot autopsies over the year to know that even copious amounts of mortician's putty wouldn't bring Mary's face back (idly, she wondered whether a muslim-style headscarf might cover the damage, then dismissed the thought as unhelpful).

Sometimes, Terri hated the cold, dispassionate way in which she approached the mechanics of death - but then she realised, once more, that her approach enabled her to focus on the people and the living. More importantly, her approach kept her sane, even when surrounded by the insanity of what some criminals inflicted upon their victims.

It took a while for IA to wrap up their anally-retentive review, investigation and analysis. All the time, Terri's poor bruised body was stiffening up as she sat there in a Tyvek evidence suit. Eventually they gave the all clear and with a cry of " _Oh praise the Lord, now can I please go and soak this old body in a hot bath?_ " Terri was ready to travel.

One of the other agents drove her back in Grishenko's car to the local hotel where the task-force was based; walking slowly to her room, Terri ran a steaming hot bath and slowly undressed. A tentative "meal and wake" gathering was lined up for the FBI team, who would be meeting in the hotel bar around 7pm.

But first, Terri needed to clean up and remove the evidence of Mary's death from her body.

 **Tuesday 20th May 2003, 14:07hrs PST**

 **Room 407 (Terri Coulter-Rabb's Hotel room)**

 **Value motel, Kelso, Washington State**

She padded around the hotel room in her complimentary slippers and stood in front of the hotel room full-length mirror to look at the state of her torso. The impact of the first bullet into her side (stopped by the double layer of Kevlar at that point) had transmitted its momentum and force into a dinner-plate sized bruise on her side (the ribs had left a bruising pattern as well).

At the scene, Terri had noticed that the first .44 Magnum round, which the UnSub had fired into her side immediately after killing Mary, had also remained embedded, ensnared in the fibres which made up the ballistic vest where the front panel had overlapped the back panel under her armpit. The 1995-manufactured vest was rated as resistant against .44 Magnum and Terri was grateful to the design, manufacture and NIJ testing which had resulted in a vest which had definitely delivered to specification when the chips were down. Terri realised that she owed the vest manufacturers a very grateful letter of testimonial.

She sighed. Instead of her "flab" absorbing the energy, her rib had caught the remaining momentum from the round - she would be bruised and the rib was going to hurt. The planned corset for the Wild West themed Memorial Day party at Alan and Jackie Mattoni's home was going to need a rapid revision - she wouldn't be attending as " _Annie Oakley, the sharp-shooting dancer in the western saloon_ ".

She knew that Dar-Lin was going to be disappointed, because the adopted Mattoni child had been working hard alongside Terri to design the costume. It couldn't be helped - her ribs were going to need gentle covering for weeks after the shooting, not confinement in boned leather!

Once more, she accepted that the work of "Agent Terri" was going to have an impact on the home life of "Momma Teresa" - but she wouldn't have it any other way; Terri Coulter-Rabb was a Federal Agent and this was part of her job and a fact of her working life.

Checking her body further, Terri realised that she probably wouldn't be dancing this weekend, period! The backs of her calves - above the protective tops of her boots - were showing some bruising. Terri was beginning to realise just how close she had come to being seriously injured by the incident; had she not landed awkwardly on the roll of discarded carpet on the lower floor, she would have crashed backwards onto a solid floor some eight feet below the starting point of her head. Not unreasonably, she shivered at the prospect of what could have happened.

Looking in the mirror of her hotel bathroom, she realised that the bruise on her sternum where the second bullet had impacted, just above her breasts, was centred almost exactly on her cross. The emerging shape of the bruising confirmed this. She lifted the cross between her thumb and forefinger and spoke to it.

"Lord, I didn't expect ya to be a bullet magnet" she joked, stepping over the edge of the Hotel bath-tub, sliding into the hot foamy bathwater and settling beneath a deep and comforting layer of bubbles. She would be calling Harm and the kids later (Washington DC was three hours behind Washington State) but how the hell do you describe a day like this to your husband?

After picking the third piece of skull fragment out of her hair, Terri stood up and used the full flow of the overhead shower nozzle to wash her hair and her entire body thoroughly clean of any further evidence of Mary's slaughter, before emptying the bathtub and then running a fresh bubble bath into which she sank once more, relaxing for a further half-hour. Somewhere along the way, she burst into tears in the privacy of her own bathroom, weeping bitter tears for the stupid, senseless slaughter of young Mary, with all her life laid out ahead of her. A second factor was Terri's growing realisation of just how close she had, once more, come to losing her own life.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

.

 **Tuesday 20th May 2003, 15:59hrs PST**

 **Room 407 (Terri Coulter-Rabb's Hotel room)**

 **Value motel, Kelso, Washington State**

"Hey Tomcat, how are the kids?"

Terri struck a bright and optimistic note when she phoned home - her call arrived just before 7pm DC time, so that she was able to talk to little Ellie before Harm led the children off to bed; eleven-month-old David chatted briefly on the phone, responding to the sound of her voice. After Harm had settled the kids in their beds, he called her back 15 minutes later, so that the two spouses chatted for a further 10 minutes.

She didn't worry Harm with the extent of her injuries. It wasn't a case of competing with "Mac" Mackenzie and her " _I'm a Marine_ " bullshit (to Terri's mind) - it just didn't need to be mentioned until she was safely home and could reassure Harm before he flew into " _zone five protective mode_ " around her. She just focussed on delivering the " _I shall be home early, ahead of the weekend, darling_ " line, which Harm accepted at face value.

Terri loved her husband to bits, but sometime he *did* go slightly over the top in forgetting that she was a serving FBI agent and a serving officer in the US Naval reserves. As she had, by now, proven on a number of occasions, with a number of "criminal masterminds" who had gone up against her, Teresa Coulter-Rabb could look after herself.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

A final shower, with hair shampoo and heavy-duty conditioner, left her feeling clean once more - and she had finished her final bout of cathartic crying in the shower as well. She dried off then used the hotel hair dryer to bring order to her hair, which she clipped into a simple ponytail.

A touch of make-up eliminated any evidence of her earlier distress at the manner of Mary's demise.

As she completed her ablutions Terri was on auto-pilot, numbly preparing herself to go out and meet people again.

The vision of Mary's death - barely one foot away from her head - kept replaying in her mind. She knew that she had been lucky. She knew that the sounds of that event would stay with her for a while. She also thought back over the effectiveness of her ballistic vest.

Back at the crime scene after the shooting, as she had removed her damaged vest, she had inspected the impact points of the rounds. Turning over the vest, she realised that the round in her side had flattened out but had still pushed out a bulge through the multi-layered fibres which made up the ballistic-resistant filling; this bulge had dug into her side, right on her lowest rib. Now, four hours later and after two hot baths and a shower, Terri's body was displaying all the damage - a testament to the price sometimes paid by FBI agents in catching the bad guys.

She shrugged; at least she was still alive. The phrase " _battered and bloodied but un-bowed_ " sprang unbidden into her mind.

She spent a few minutes choosing what she would wear for the evening. Her first thought had been to choose something that wouldn't need to be crammed under a ballistic vest; this was her initial preference until she saw the damage and bruising to her body in the shower and bath.

Soft clothes and sitting down carefully would be the order of the day for some days to come. She didn't normally bother collecting souvenirs from the places which she visited during her cases, but a " _Washington State_ " or " _Seattle Mariners_ " sweatshirt or hoodie, with matching soft t-shirt beneath, would be her clothing of choice during the next day for the FBI-IA follow-up inquiry, the AAR write-up and the long flight home.

Because of her injuries from the shooting and the impact, she was being short-toured back to DC so that she could complete her recovery at home. She wasn't looking forward to her journey home on Thursday. this would involve a long car ride up to SEA-TAC for the five-hour flight across to IAD and thence to FBI HQ for an update and mandatory chat with the Bureau shrink after an Agent-involved shooting.

She laughed gently to herself. She always understood the logic of "the process", but " _dear Lord why does it have to be so soon after I got hurt this time?_ "

 **Tuesday 20th May 2003, 17:47hrs PST**

 **Room 407 (Terri Coulter-Rabb's Hotel room)**

 **Value motel, Kelso, Washington State**

Some time later after her bath - and before meeting the local team in the hotel bar for Mary's FBI "wake", she got to look at Mary's personnel file as she typed up her earlier hand-written notes for the AAR. This would enable her to follow up the SAC's Casualty call to Mary's parents with arranging a personal visit of her own on the Wednesday or Thursday.

By this point, her MD instincts were kicking in because of the pain radiating from her elbow; she finally and grudgingly accepted that she was going to need to have this looked at professionally, so she got fully dressed once more. Pulling on a t-shirt and sweatshirt over a skirt and the simple courts that she had purchased at Payless on arrival, she closed up her replacement FBI windcheater and reached the reception at the appointed time - she had telephoned to arrange for one of her local colleagues to run her into Longview to the local ER in the hospital on 15th Street, then to the shopping mall to acquire her desired sweatshirt and underclothes.

She remembered to pick up her wallet and her FBI creds before leaving her hotel room. She was already confident that Harm would be able to place an initial couple of coats of polish to eliminate most of the unwanted biological coating on her new cheap boots, which lay drying in her hotel bathroom. She had not felt upset, in the slightest, as she cleaned the evidence of Mary's demise from her footwear. A flick with a duster in the morning was her plan before dressing for the day.

She introduced herself to the ER team as they eased her sweatshirt over her head and then began examining her elbow - and then the rest of her. The ER physicians were able to reassure her (" _it happens, Doc - we make the worst patients_ " laughed the ER resident) that nothing was broken, so Terri was released and able to go shopping. She had realised that, given the state of her elbow, she might not be able to reach behind her to fasten her bra or bend her sore shoulder when she got dressed the next day, so had opted to buy a front-fastening model ready for the next day when she visited the mall again; there were certain items of clothing which no self-respecting Southern lady would leave the home without!

Her local FBI colleague then drove Terri (and her shopping) back to her hotel and then on to the site of Mary's wake.

 **Tuesday 20th May 2003, 19:30hrs PST**

 **Jack's Bar, Main Street alongside the Police Station**

 **Main Street, Kelso, Washington State**

The wake for Mary was dignified and poignant - the traditional honouring, by comrades, of a fallen officer. One of Mary's old school friends was an officer with Seattle PD and she had taken the trouble to travel down to Kelso to join in with the wake and to brief Mary's heart-broken colleagues on " _Mary the girl_ " and " _Mary the friend_ " to compliment their memories of " _Mary the agent, young woman and colleague_ ".

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Tuesday 20th May 2003, 21:55hrs PST**

 **Room 407 (Terri Coulter-Rabb's Hotel room)**

 **Value motel, Kelso, Washington State**

With self-administered Ibuprofen and an extra pillow tucked under her elbow as she lay in bed, Terri settled down and she made it through the Tuesday night. She was in much better shape as Wednesday morning dawned. Even the challenge of dressing was not quite as daunting as she had feared, so it was a respectable-looking FBI agent/ME who headed down to breakfast on the Wednesday morning.

As it turned out, Teresa would spend most of the Wednesday in the basement morgue of the Kelso police station (apart from another shopping trip around lunchtime). The FBI had mobilised a second ME from Chicago, once the extent of Terri's injuries had become clear on the Tuesday afternoon, so they were able to double-team the workload between them on the Wednesday and sign off all the files before end of day, with the end-goal that Terri's expedited return to DC during the Thursday could be assured. The full analysis of the victims would take place in Seattle, and Terri's stand-in was confident to carry on the load (with Terri available to consult by phone or video-conference) whilst Terri was shipped home to DC in order to recuperate.

This meant that Wednesday afternoon was taken up with outstanding paperwork and post-mortem examinations of the UnSub's victims then another long soak in the bath-tub and straight to bed for an early Wednesday night after talking with her family back home in DC.

 **Thursday 22nd May 2003, 10:30hrs PST**

 **American Airlines Check-in, Seattle / Tacoma International Airport**  
 **17801 International Blvd. Seattle, WA 98158**

With an early start for SEA-TAC the following day before her flight home, Teresa arranged for her FBI driver to head on over to Mary's parents and to drop her for a half-hour in their neat little house in West Seattle, near the streets, harbour and schools where Mary had grown up and from where she had formed then followed her desire to join the FBI. As Terri had expected, Mary's parents were keen to hear her opinion and experiences of working with their daughter before her death (the details of which Terri deliberately blurred, out of a sensible concern for the parental sensibilities). Another young face would shortly be staring out unblinking from the FBI Wall of Honour in the Hoover Building with an unfulfilled potential. Afterwards, her driver took her across to SEA-TAC.

Fortunately the American Airlines check-in supervisor took note of the FBI jackets and the colleagues carrying Terri's bags as she limped up to the AA check-in desk and quietly arranged to re-seat Terri in a window seat in the First/Business cabin at the front of the plane, which was not too busy on that particular flight. " _We honour those who serve_ " he smiled to her, in a nice 2003 acknowledgement of the hard work of Federal agencies in keeping America safe. Terri nodded gratefully and accepted her boarding card before she limped off towards the assistance waiting area, to await the cart which would run her sore body out along the long pier to the departures gate for her flight home.

 **Thursday 22nd May 2003 - 20:10hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

An FBI driver had collected Terri at the gate as she disembarked in Dulles and had then collected her cases from the baggage carousel and escorted her to a Bureau car for her journey home. Harm standing by the front door of their home, waiting to collect her luggage from the FBI driver as she walked, slowly and stiffly from the car into the house. He was obviously shocked at her appearance, but obeyed her raised finger and remained quiet as she walked slowly into the house. She sat on the stairs whilst Harm unlaced her boots and then she crawled up the stairs to the bathroom. Terri had stiffened up during the flight, despite the extra blankets tucked around her as she reclined her First Class seat as the plane headed back east. The hot baths were definitely easing her aches and pains from the shooting and the fall.

Later, Terri came back downstairs - she needed to be with her husband and children after such a terrible experience - and began to explain and unburden the past four days since she had been scrambled to Seattle. Harm understood quickly how she was feeling and was, as always, the supportive husband; Terri made it clear that he was NOT to fly into "super-hero mode" and that her body was already healing (if rather slowly). He volunteered to unpack her suitcase and she nodded gratefully as her ran a warm bath for her then left her to dis-robe and slide into the bath-tub.

Harm had warned Ellie that Mommy had had a bad week and was hurting, so to be gentle - Ellie had no problems with complying, as she sat and kept 11-month David in her arms. When he had watched as his Teresa had first walked down the stairs and wandered thoughtfully into the lounge, Harm knew that his wife's subdued attitude must stem from the loss of a colleague, so Harm wisely stayed quiet until his Teresa wanted to talk. As Terri bounced young David on her knee, he gave her a comforting foot massage, noticing the small areas where her feet had been rubbed by the unforgiving brand-new leather.

Terri then dozed for an hour before she had a snack meal with Harm and then headed upstairs once more for another comforting, relaxing bath. In that time, Harm had polished his dress shoes for the Friday morning and had fully unlaced and completely re-polished her new "Oakley" boots in case Terri might feel well-enough to attend the party on Saturday night in her costume. He also started work on the footwear which she had purchased in Seattle. The lack of scuffing around the heels confirmed to him that Terri had not been driving - an activity which ruins the shoes of many women, he had learned. Harm enjoyed the domestic tranquility of these simple tasks, as he listened to the gentle snoring of his wife, safely returned to the cocoon of their home.

Later, when she called him into the bathroom, following his customary "man on deck" warning, he gasped as he saw the bruised areas on his beloved Teresa's body. The bruises were almost fully-developed and still darkening but she knew she had been lucky and she was home with her Tomcat.

Later that night, she held him tight and wept - for her fear, Mary's soul and another group of victims whose deceased killer would never stand trial for his crimes.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

"Harm, could we talk please?"

"Yeah sure darling, what's on your mind?"

"I saw a young woman die in front of me the other day. The other teams had failed to clear the site properly and the UnSub was still hiding out. She was lovely and bright and innocent and eager and keen and a credit to womanhood. One second she was live, sentient and talking, the next second she was on the ground with half her head missing - and some of it was spread over me". Terri shuddered involuntarily; this wasn't going to be easy, but she *had* to talk this through with the most important man in her life.

"OK what was her name and had you worked with her before?"

"A lovely girl called Mary Grishenko; she was a recent graduate of FLETC and this was our first gig together. Oh Harm, if I had been leading as we went into that room, I know would be dead and Mary would be the one hauling a bruised and battered body home. I was only in second position because I was the first to dig out a flashlight - it is simply *that* random a piece of shit luck".

"OK I understand that darling but:" Harm caressed her hands as he sought out any areas of her body which he could hug without causing his Teresa discomfort: "Teresa, she was obviously doing a job that she loved and it was only because your colleagues did a piss-poor job of clearing the site that this bad guy even had a chance to get off a shot. This is not your fault, my darling". He kissed her tenderly. She groaned as her body began to respond - it was as though Harm had programmed her responses during their time together, despite the pain in her body at that moment. She sighed contentedly.

Slowly the horrors began to subside and Terri turned to mould her battered body into the side of Harm.

Sleep came slowly that night, but she was home, with her Tomcat, in their bed - and that made everything better.

As dawn broke, Harm found himself gazing adoringly at his wife. She smiled unconsciously as she slept; her Tomcat was keeping the bad dreams away - and somehow, that made everything right.

She knew that the bruises would heal.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Friday 23rd May 2003 - 07:23hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

By the Friday morning Terri felt far less stressed, ready to face the Memorial Day weekend; her sporting activities at the JAG family gathering would, sadly, be severely restricted as a result of her injuries.

At some time around dawn Terri had stirred in her sleep, then subconsciously pressed one of her bruised areas against Harm and woken herself up with the resulting pain. She quietly went downstairs and made herself a cup of tea then returned to bed. She had spent part of the night propped up on pillows, before finally falling asleep again around 05:00hrs.

As she started her day, she had phoned ahead and arranged for a taxi to run her across after breakfast to the Hoover Building in time for the case update and video conference; no-one complained about her choice of loose upper-body clothing, although she made an odd sight, standing out amongst the "suits" of head office!

Once more, the "Kelso Killer" had followed a well-worn path to becoming a murderer and, once more, nobody had thought to "tell someone". His school days and College years had thrown up several pointers which matched the warning parameters previously published by the FBI's ViCAP programme, however but no-one had made the connection. Terri could only lament the wastage of good human life and the pointless loss of another young FBI agent.

" ** _Dear God, why did no-one think to say 'this guy is out of control' at some point in the past thirty years?_** " she mused to herself during the case review, standing up and moving regularly around the room to ease her bruising.

Answer came there none. Despite all the material published by the FBI and deliberately placed into the public domain to help spot potential killers, no-one had thought to call this guy out on his outlandish behaviours, with the result that Terri was supporting her Seattle colleagues who now had a freezer room full of autopsies to perform.

With the UnSub dead, there was no gain long-term study material available to enhance the body of knowledge within ViCAP. As Terri lamented, it was a complete waste.

Her only contribution was to suggest the use of protective goggles during a raid, to protect agents' eyes from "any fluids and materials which may be flying around". Her senior director started to ask a question about Terri's suggestion, but he stopped with the word " _why?_ " barely off his lips when he remembered the circumstances of Mary's slaughter. He nodded appreciatively and supported Terri's recommendation.

Terri spent the rest of the day updating her AAR and collating autopsy records before submitting it to the Seattle field office for incorporation into the final report.

By this time she was feeling tired, so she grabbed a taxi home, via Dress Barn; still operated by the founding Jaffe family, the store had ranges of clothing and outfits which suited Terri and she shopped there frequently. She bought two new pairs of dark pants, one with navy-style bell-bottoms.

She had examined the Wednesday outfit in the cold light of day and they wouldn't be good for FBI work ever again. She teamed the trousers along with a waistcoat in a colour which might stand in - as loose clothing - for the corset in her "Annie Oakley" outfit at the upcoming party at Maison Mattoni, then she returned to the taxi to continue her journey home, where she opted for another comforting hot bath. A couple of formal dress blouses and shorts completed her purchase.

Friday evening marked the point where she began to cut back on the Ibuprofen; she continued to recover over the long holiday weekend.

 **Monday 26th May 2003 - 13:30hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Alan Mattoni and Jackie Mattoni, along with Dar-Lin Mattoni and little Annabelle Mattoni**

 **Washington DC**

The Mattoni Memorial Day family event was fun, distracting and gave everyone an enjoyable time; Dar-Lin hid her sadness at not seeing Auntie Terri in her "singing cowgirl" outfit but was grateful that Terri had turned up in a variation of the costume - even if she had substituted a looser-fitting outfit to shield her bruising. Terri, who spent much of the day just sitting and relaxing as her bruising began to heal, promised Dar-Lin that there would be another day - or even a special one-on-one display.

(Eventually Terri delivered on her promise in mid-July, complete with wide-brimmed cowgirl hat and a guitar over her shoulder. Dar-Lin was overjoyed - and so was Terri, as she realised that she could have missed this day altogether had the UnSub been slightly quicker to the trigger or had aimed his first shot higher or lower or away from Mary...)

But these considerations were the imponderable aspects of life. She shrugged - it was just a danger of the job; and she was a fully-trained FBI agent.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR **

**Friday 3rd October 2003** **\- 10:22hrs Local**

 **Main bullpen, **JAG HQ Falls Church VA****

Through the summer of 2003, in the background, the rhythm of life for the FBI and for JAG continued, with interesting cases and challenging investigations for both Harm and Terri. There were, of course, some memorable incidents.

Harm came close to losing his long-time friend and work partner Mac (Lt Colonel Sarah Mackenzie), who was captured by terrorists after agreeing to assist in one of Clayton Webb's ham-fisted CIA operations down in Paraguay. Terri had happened to be in JAG HQ, consulting on a case, on the day when the news came in.

Terri's hand, placed firmly across Harm's forearm, restrained him from his initial instinct to hop onto a plane and help - Terri was truly pleased by Harm's mature response, knowing that Harm thought of his family first before he started thinking about getting involved in adventures.

" _Tomcat, you are too darn old for that excitement plus you can do more by organising here than heading off to shoot the bad guys. So please listen to your wife, my darling husband; take a deep breath; count to ten and breathe out; then pass on the knowledge and skills, Tomcat - your family needs you here_ ".

Harm, seeing and accepting the wisdom of his wife's words, used his knowledge to advise Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez and a small Marine team, which was able eventually to not only extract Mac and Clayton Webb, but also inflict significant major (and permanent) damage on the terrorist cell; they also caused a small earthquake when the team managed to detonate 100 Stinger missiles.

Aerial surveys later identified what would be framed on the wall of the JAG bull-pen and captioned as the "Galindez Crater"!

The one key piece of information which Harm had imparted to Galindez (which became invaluable during the raid on the terrorist camp) was that "w _hen Mac ducks for cover, she drops to her left because her right wrist is weak_ ". This nugget of intel enabled Gunny to take out two of the bad guys before Mac was even flat on the floor, successfully aiming his AK-47 so as to miss her in the opening confusion of the raid on the terrorists' torture shed.

Harm didn't bother to mention that Mac's wrist stemmed from the day she ducked for cover when he fired an HK in Judge Morris' courtroom!

As she stood up afterwards and brushed herself down and wiped the splattered blood and brains off her face and arms, Mac asked Gunny how he had known to aim in that particular direction. " _Ask your former JAG partner, ma'am - he knows you so well_ ".

Mac had resolved to thank Commander Harmon Rabb jr on her return to the USA.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Saturday 18th October 2003 - 19:23hrs EST**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Terri and Harm welcomed Mac and Clay back, inviting them round for a meal once the worst after-effects of Clay's torture had healed. Once more, Terri's medical instincts were activated as she watched Mac cut up Clay's steak for him, enabling him to feed himself with a fork; clearly there was longer-term healing required for the nerve damage. But he was alive and it seemed that Mac was content to be with the spook - for now, at least. A pleasant alcohol-free evening enabled the former JAG "super-team" to rebuild some parts of their working relationship. Mac had accepted, long ago and back in 1998, that Harm was no longer hers to lust over; however she still valued his friendship and his counsel.

Meanwhile over in Kentucky, Faith Coleman's weekend on the Manetti family ranch saw her back in the saddle for the first time since her university days. Guided by Tracy, she enjoyed a long morning ride along the river valley and back along a circular route from the ranch. Carolyn Imes joined in, so that the three JAG Commanders were able to roam across the countryside, exchanging experiences and opinions on their early childhood experiences of horse-riding,

In the sunshine and the fresh air, Faith Coleman felt, once more, that she was alive.

Tracy Manetti was delighted to have facilitated the weekend, whilst her sisters-in-law combined their efforts and looked after Hope and Daniel in the main house. Tracy's three brothers supported the project.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Friday 24th October 2003** **\- 17:30hrs Local**

 **Main bullpen, **JAG HQ Falls Church VA****

In October, Harm was jealous - only in terms of admiring the piloting skills displayed - to watch one of his former clients, former Navy Commander Beth O'Neill (who had left the US Navy after her court case and had "come out" in the CIA), land a huge C-130 transport plane on the desk of his old carrier, the _Seahawk_.

Unfortunately, the unexpected TV coverage ultimately resulted in Beth's employment with the CIA being terminated, so Beth would be looking for other work as the year rolled around from 2003 into 2004.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Friday 31st October 2003, 09:24hrs EST**

 **Grace Aviation Services, Hangar C,**

 **Blacksburg Municipal Airport, Roanoke VA;**

In the week before Dar-Lin Mattoni's 10th birthday party on Wednesday 5th November, Harm and Terri had arranged for Frank and Trish to visit from California for a Hallowe'en weekend with the grandkids and to look after the "babies" whilst Harm took Terri for a long-promised weekend away which would include flying in "Sarah" - his restored vintage PT-17 Stearman biplane which was actually named after his Grandmother (he was quick to reassure Terri when the raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the name!).

Terri had welcomed the prospect of a long weekend away; it was an attractive prospect as she returned home in the early hours of the Friday morning from an exhausting (and emotionally-draining) week-long investigation into yet another serial killer in darkest Montana. The 2,000-mile distance of her flight back home from Montana to DC merely added to her exhaustion as she began the weekend away.

What raised her spirits was the prospect of spending quality, dedicated one-on-one time with her Tomcat over the upcoming weekend. They had neglected the physical side of their relationship since her shooting in Seattle and, with her body fully healed many months before, she was keen to get "down and dirty" with her husband. He had welcomed her home enthusiastically in the early hours of the Friday morning and again when they woke up ahead of the drive to Blacksburg. " _Welcoming me home with his trousers around his ankles_ " had sprung to Terri's mind.

As a result, Harm was most impressed - and joyously pleased - by his wife's insatiable appetite for his body that weekend.

The other good outcome for Terri was that she had decided that the city of Helena, MT, would be a great place to retire. The rugged beauty of the landscape took her breath away and she filed it alongside Bismarck, North Dakota, as possible locations for that remote day when she was finally ready for the "elephants' graveyard". If course, Terri had yet to share her "head for the hills" long-term retirement plan with her husband!

As Harm drove up to the hangar entrance, he noticed that "Pop" Walchovski's sign was missing from its traditional spot, hanging above the hangar doors.

As he helped Terri from the passenger seat of the Corvette where she had fallen asleep during the cross-country drive to Blacksburg (" _honestly_ ", he thought to himself, " _this girl could sleep on a clothes line_ "), they were greeted by a young teenage girl with a mop of ginger hair: her overalls bore a striking resemblance to Terri's flight-suit.

"Looks like something's changed" Harm observed to Terri, looking around the hangar and apron as he walked towards the girl after he and Terri had closed the Corvette's doors. As this was Terri's first visit to Blacksburg, she could only nod supportively and pull her jacket closer as she surveyed the wind-swept airfield on this raw October morning.

" _Yeah, well, you been away for a while?_ "

"Yep, some time obviously".

The ginger-haired girl stuck out her hand in greeting.

 **"** _Hi, I'm Mattie Grace, the new owner; welcome to Grace Aviation. We got your message and we've pulled your plane out - she's a beauty_ **".**

 **…. and thus the "Coulter-Rabb four" were eventually destined to become five, long after this first meeting.**

 **A/N** 31-10-2018: Thank you, dear readers, for your reviews and PMs on the question of " _how much detail to show on the Mattie adoption storyline from canon_ ". You have helped me to shape the next chapter, which will be shorter and will appear before the end of November.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 16 "Family Extended" (part 27) and "Comfortable shoes?" (part 28) and "Dangers of the job" (part 29)**


	17. Domestic Harmony? : Mattie Coulter-Rabb

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 17 - parts 30 and 31)**

 **"Domestic Harmony? : Mattie Coulter-Rabb"**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed.

 **A/N:** Ch 17: in gratitude for your reviews and PMs and votes, we make a little diversion this month into the side-story of Mattie. This is my take on the Mattie Johnson/Grace saga and I thank my fellow FFN members for the PMs and reviews during October, to assist my decision on how much detail to write into this. My grateful thanks to "Syrae" as my helpful beta-reader for Ch 17.

 **A/N** : I also take on board the recent feedback that I've been neglecting Harm's adventures (thank you anonymous unregistered reviewer named "Steamboat"). So let's take a look at just how completely Harm and Teresa support each other's working lives and how they build and sustain the domestic harmony of their marriage and family whilst performing at high level in their Government employment.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Phase Seventeen of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Domestic Harmony?" and "Family Court - Mattie Grace Coulter-Rabb""**

 **A/N Publication date: 22-11-2018** : ...and now, honouring our Transatlantic cousins on the occasion of their Thanksgiving Day, on with Chapter Seventeen. Life (and work) goes on; Harm and Terri learn more about Mattie's situation; Mattie joins the family.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 17 - Part 30 - "Domestic Harmony?"**

 **Friday 31st October 2003, 15:50hrs EST**

 **Grace Aviation Services, Hangar C,**

 **Blacksburg Municipal Airport, Roanoke VA;**

Harm - typically possessive of his bright yellow "toy" as Terri joked - had supervised the aircrew as they carefully rolled "Sarah" back into the hangar after refuelling, ready to fly again on the Saturday.

Terri and Mattie stood to one side, having both - independently - said " _let the boys play_ ". This caused laughter - and a bonding - between the woman and the girl.

Terri turned to Mattie: "So, we're off to the hotel and we'll be back in the morning. The hotel seems to have a reasonable restaurant, but is there anywhere local that you would recommend?"

Mattie thought for a second. "Well, I don't eat out, but I believe that everyone finds something to please their palates around Market Square down in Roanoke."

"OK thanks, I reckon that's close to our hotel. See you in the morning, Mattie?"

"Yep, I'll be here, bright and early."

Harm returned from the hangar, bade Mattie farewell and held the car door open for Terri, handing her into her seat and offering her the seatbelt from over her shoulder before he walked around to the driver's door. She appreciated the courtesy but it sparked a thought. Just before the exit gate from the airfield, she asked Harm to pull over and park up.

He set the parking brake and as he shifted the car into neutral, Terri placed her hand on his; her engagement ring sparkled in the late autumn sunlight and he looked down with pride, at the diamonds and the circle of gold on her finger which signified her status - his wife, mother of his children, his supporter and partner in crime.

Then his eyes lifted to settle on her gaze; Terri looked nervous as she gazed into his eyes.

She moistened her lips before she began to speak, phrasing her question carefully. She had been worrying about this for some time.

"Harm, do you think that I've 'emasculated' you, or 'domesticated' you too far?"

After a brief laugh accompanied by a shake of his head, he looked deeper into her eyes, concerned by her question. Suddenly, he realised that Teresa was serious - very serious.

"Wow, what brought this on? Oh, and the answer is no - naturally."

He had been so happy to make the time for this Halloween getaway, specifically to spend time with his Teresa as he wanted a weekend focussed on the two of them. He hoped that by introducing her to the wind-blown pleasures of an open cockpit cruising over the Virginia countryside, he would help her recover after the Montana expedition.

Harm had been in Falls Church HQ every day since the Monday and had been fully engaged on daytime "JAG" duties and morning/evening "Daddy" duties with his beloved children whilst Terri had been away on FBI duties in Montana. But if this time away in Blacksburg was simply going to cause her doubts, then this needed to be fixed - and fast!

Terri also phrased her next question carefully. "I was talking with one of your colleagues recently and I mentioned that you're my brilliant support mechanism at home - because you are wonderful with our children and sharing domestic duties. You always ensure that I'm turned out immaculately, the foot rubs are brilliant, and no woman - in my humble opinion - could have a better lover, partner and father for her (I mean, our) children. You always take your share of the work at home and I really reckon that I have the best possible partner for our domestic life."

She paused. "But she said..." Terri paused again, then ploughed on, "she said that she thought you were some kind of domesticated slave, serving me at the expense of your soul."

She frowned as she continued: "All I had said to her was that your foot rubs were heavenly and I could always count on my uniforms to be immaculately prepared! She called you a boot-polishing eunuch – and there was no trace of humour in her eyes or body pose, so I reckon she believed this bull-shit." Terri looked mournfully into Harm's eyes as she slipped a comforting hand along his thigh; she sensed his growing disbelief and anger.

"She WHAT?"

Harm sat back, stunned. How long had Teresa been harbouring these thoughts? As far as he knew, she hadn't been near JAG HQ for some weeks. He phrased his answer carefully.

"Well, without asking who - and I do not need to know, because that person is dead wrong – let's look at the facts."

Harm appreciated the comforting presence of his wife's hand. He ticked off the points on their intertwined fingers, marshalling and re-sorting the list as he spoke.

"In the five years since you did me the honour of revealing our pregnancy to me, I have never been more settled - and I mean settled, contented, happy and superbly-supported as I (in turn) go out into the world of JAG and the Navy to fight for truth, justice (you know the rest, yadda-yadda-yadda?)."

Terri smiled and nodded.

"I still fly. Surely, any 'domestic tyrant' would have clipped or folded my wings, but you, Teresa, still encourage me to keep my quals up and you keep the kids safe when I sail away."

He shrugged. "Look, when the Tomcat retires in a few years, I don't reckon the Navy will want to spend a million bucks on cross-training an occasional weekend near-forty-year-old flyer onto the F-18. This means that my flying time on carrier-borne fast jets has a natural shelf-life (with, sadly, an end-date) and I can see the horizon starting to approach. When that time comes, knowing that I have your love and support will still be the most important aspect of my life, darling Teresa - and then *we* can fly together in _Sarah_ down here in Blacksburg."

He took her hand more tightly in his. "Darling, when I walk away from naval aviation it will be as a result of having had a great career but it will, more importantly, be because I have an even greater pair of careers as a JAG lawyer and also as your husband, lover, supporter and joint parent to our wonderful kids."

Warming to his theme, Harm continued. "You were already 'mine' (and I was yours) when I was awarded my second DFC in 1999 - by which time your shoe collection was gleaming and I was already ' _happy to serve_ ' in our marriage and in our home, plus we were still settling into married life with our first child; so this person is plain wrong, by any objective measure."

"I am proud to pitch in and take my share around the home. When I was on my own, all my female visitors remarked that my apartment was always clean and neat - because that's who I am. So it is also who I was, darling Teresa, long before you entered my life and made me complete. Cleaning shoes, pressing uniforms, keeping on top of the laundry and cleaning the house - that is just SOP for a naval officer. However, it is even more efficient when one person does it for two - or for a family unit which is what we have. We have matured as a brilliant domestic team"

He smiled and looked down into the footwell on Terri's side of the car. "Besides, given the cost of your footwear, I reckon I need to protect my investment in your shoe locker, so that your shoes and boots last longer and so I can afford the fuel to fly _Sarah_ from the savings!"

Terri smiled with relief and joined in. "Harm, it isn't just the men of JAG who keep their uniforms pressed and their shoes (or boots) polished - look at Carolyn Imes last Christmas at the JAG Carol Service. When she took off that long red Cossack coat, there were as many women as men looking at her long dress to work out if her boots were knee-length or thigh length! And they were GLEAMING - so Carolyn obviously does her own polishing, because I am pretty certain that she's a single girl-about-town at present (and has been for quite a while)."

Harm looked thoughtfully at her - he probably hadn't noticed Carolyn that Christmas night. Terri sighed, appreciating that her husband had been focussed on her, rather than what Carolyn Imes had been wearing. This told her that her husband had his priorities set correctly - from her selfish PoV!

"No," she concluded, "we are equal-opportunity polishers, male and female officers alike - and I have no information on Carolyn's sexual activity - or prowess !"

Harm smiled: "Nor do I; I shall simply stipulate that Carolyn Imes wore her uniform well whenever she was in JAG HQ and that it hid a great body! But her treatment at the end was a travesty".

He sighed: "She didn't deserve to be treated like that, but I am glad she's enrolling in Law School again once she took time out to lick her wounds for a while."

They chuckled together and he picked up the debate, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

"You are my domestic rock; Teresa, I also know that your career has still blossomed since/despite your decision to take the risk - in line with supporting me and our marriage - to move to DC and join the FBI. In turn, I reckon - no, I am certain - that my game has improved as well as I said. Funnily enough, the Admiral called me in last week and he specifically complimented me on my performance."

He laughed: "That is, of course, my *work* performance."

Terri raised a questioning eyebrow.

"My courtroom performance is even better since our marriage. My win rate is even higher. Not one judge has beaten a path to the Admiral's door complaining about me since our marriage - and remember that before we married, Judge Morris had called me out on a few occasions, as had Judge Sebring."

He chuckled at the memories, especially of Mac "taking cover" when he opened fire, long ago, in Judge Morris' courtroom.

"My investigative performance has been the subject of three published case-studies into the demonstration of (my) professional excellence - and you know that those case-studies don't get handed out with the rations."

"My fame is spreading through official lines and that is happening without me pushing the matter or blowing my own trumpet. My peers and superiors are regularly appreciating what I do and the *fact* that, as a husband, I am even bettering the perceived performance of my duties than I was as a footloose free and single man!"

"I saved Mac and Webb in Paraguay. However, I achieved that rescue, not by leaping in with brawn but by applying my brains to brief the Marine team who went in and extracted her - as would be expected from a senior officer, namely to lead and direct and inspire."

He grinned and squeezed Terri's hand, as he admitted ruefully: "Yes, OK, you *did* have to remind me to delegate - but again, this is *you* supporting *me* as part of our special partnership."

He took Terri's hand once more, instantly kissing her knuckles. "So, my darling, you make me better; you encourage me and you support me. What did she think: that I've become some boot-polishing eunuch seated adoringly at your feet? No way Teresa - you have improved me in every way and I thank you for that; I know that I am a better man for knowing you and walking alongside you as my equal partner in life."

He smiled at her and winked. "But if you do want me seated at your feet obediently, I can think of just the costume that I would want you to be wearing, my darling mistress!"

By this time, Teresa was crying gentle tears of happiness. She rooted in her handbag for a tissue and then looked up at him lovingly. "Tomcat, thank you; come on, take me back to this hotel that you've got booked and let me show my appreciation. Then we'll find a restaurant to deal with the appetite."

She patted his hand. "And you definitely weren't a eunuch in the early hours of this morning, were you?"

She slapped her gloves on the dashboard of the car and pointed imperiously forward with an extended index finger: "Hotel, please, chauffeur."

Checking over his shoulder for traffic, Harm put the car into gear and eased off the parking brake with a smile as he responded to the "instructions" of his "mistress" in the traditional manner of response.

"Yes, dear."

As he drove away, a sudden thought occurred to Terri.

"Harm, how do you know that Carolyn Imes has a great body?"

"Relax, darling Teresa - the coffee room at JAG HQ is very crowded and sometimes you have to reach around people!"

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Part 31 - "Family court - Mattie Grace Coulter-Rabb".**

 **Saturday 1st November 2003, 08:53hrs EST**

 **Grace Aviation Services, Hangar C,**

 **Blacksburg Municipal Airport, Roanoke VA;**

Harm and Teri, relaxed after a very active and joyful evening (and night) in the hotel, arrived in time to take the Stearman aloft. They found Mattie outside, ready to greet them as they arrived. Harm took Terri through the checklist-mandated steps of the walk-round inspection which was to be carried out every time before the aircraft left the apron and proceeded to the runway.

The November light levels and length of day had prevented Harm and Terri from flying up to visit Grams in Belleville PA, so the two intrepid aviators spent their time in the aerobatic manoeuvring area and touring within a one-hour range from the airfield, before returning for lunch and a refuel, then taking off again to repeat the exercise.

By the time of landing at the end of the afternoon session, Harm was accustomed to a "Tennessee Warble" of pleasure from the front cockpit – Mrs. Coulter-Rabb was becoming a confirmed keen aviatrix.

"Oh Lord", he thought, "she's insatiable." As before, they supervised Mattie's lads as they carefully pushed the Stearman back into its spot in the hangar.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Wednesday 5th November 2003 - 13:00hrs Local**

 **Alongside Annie Lewis' grave, Tall Pines cemetery, VA**

Harm and Terri, along with the US Navy chief of chaplains and his pregnant wife together with NCIS Agent Holland, had gathered at Annie's graveside to commemorate what should have been her 10th birthday.

Alan and Jackie Mattoni had brought Dar-Lin, who placed a pebble on her sister's headstone to signify a visit.

The peaceful spot, amongst the pine trees, was a fitting final resting place for the young girl who had, seemingly, only known torment until her death on February 24th, 1999.

Together, they read prayers and recited the 23rd psalm.

Annie would not be forgotten.

No-one spared a thought for Charlie Lynch and his reign of terror.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Wednesday 10th December 2003 - 11:30hrs Local**

 **Courthouse steps, Blacksburg, VA**

Through November, as Harm and Terri learned more and more about the horrific home environment and circumstances of Mattie's life after their first meeting on the Halloween weekend of 2003, the germ of an idea had begun to take root in their hearts over the next six weeks.

Terri knew that Harm's innate goodness would lead him to try to solve the "Mattie situation" and she was very pleased to be able to support her loving Tomcat in the endeavour.

Terri realised just how far her man had developed over the five years of their relationship and marriage. His recent compliment, about her challenging him and making him even better, had boosted her own self-esteem.

Terri realised, from the comment by his "misguided" female colleague (in Terri's better-qualified opinion!), that Harm's contribution to their household might be seen by some to be a weakness.

In fact, Terri regarded his performance as a major strength - Harmon Rabb Jr was one of the best "new men" around. Not only was he an excellent naval lawyer (and part-time Tomcat driver), but he was also the best father that she could have wished for in caring for their children, caring for her and adding the domestic duties to the previous excellent performance in the role as a JAG lawyer. She noted that the female judge in Blacksburg was impressed with both her ME and FBI achievements as well as Harm's career achievements.

Hell, she reckoned, he could multi-task like the best working female!

After applying cold hard logic through the fall of 2003 and into the winter period, the logic and advantages of the Mattie fostering/adoption idea became overwhelming.

With Mattie's full agreement (knowledge, active engagement and support), Harm and Terri started the process of petitioning the Blacksburg court for permission to foster Mattie. This was planned to last until her 18th birthday or until her father Tom Johnson had recovered from his alcohol dependency tail-spin (" _or spun into the deck_ " as Terri unemotionally assessed his chances, based upon her years of observing Captain Thomas Chaddock from *far* too close a range for *far* too long a proportion of her young life).

Mattie had explained that she had taken "Grace" (her late mother's maiden name) to distinguish her from her father and his obvious problems.

Some time later during the proceedings, after another alcohol-fuelled crisis, Tom reluctantly agreed to give up his rights to Mattie. This enabled the Coulter-Rabb family to move up into the area of setting a time-scale for formal adoption proceedings because Tom needed to concentrate on his own problems.

Tempering their enthusiasm for a swift full-scope adoption, the Blacksburg judge rode Harm and Teresa hard in her examinations. She wanted to assure herself that they were very clear on what they were signing up for - and understanding what they would have to accomplish and the commitments that they would be undertaking, along with the likely duration.

By the end of the final court hearing, a fortnight before Christmas of 2003, Mattie had been formally fostered by Harm and Terri as her guardians, with a view to formal adoption later in 2004 or early 2005. In the interim, Mattie had petitioned to change her legal name to Mattie Grace Coulter-Rabb and this was approved by the judge. The action showed her intention to belong as much - and as far - as was possible as a member of the Coulter-Rabb family with Terri, Harm, Ellen and David.

With the crop-dusting season now long-finished, the search for a local school in DC for Mattie began during the run-up to the court hearings. This would ensure she could catch up on what, by common agreement, was reckoned to be around a year of missed schooling. In the run-up to Christmas, Mattie would be able to read up on the collections of encyclopaedia volumes in the Coulter-Rabb home.

Harm then succeeded in obtaining the services of Beth O'Neill (whose partner was becoming increasingly worried about Beth's post-Navy flying missions for the CIA) as a general manager and lead pilot for the Grace Aviation business.

Beth had delighted her partner by finally confirming her decision that she was quitting the CIA. The publicity surrounding the " _C-130 incident_ " meant that she was on "borrowed time" with the Agency, despite Alan Blaisdell's enthusiasm to keep her flying for the Agency. She was able to take the role running Grace Aviation on behalf of Mattie until the young girl reached adulthood. Harm, Terri, Beth and Julia had all met up with Alan Blaisdell for a quiet "retirement" party for Beth.

The truly wonderful part of the new civilian job was that it also meant that Beth could finally acknowledge Julia as her girlfriend/partner, without the previous pretence of "room-mate".

This new arrangement meant that the two women had settled into the Grace house (from where Beth's partner could run her own business whilst Beth got to grips with the Grace Aviation business) giving Beth a short commute to the airfield in Blacksburg every morning.

Beth's previous fearful reticence about disclosing her sexuality was driven by the USA forces policy of " _don't ask, don't tell_ " (which would stagger on until it was finally put out of its misery and repealed in 2011). As Beth settled into the civilian life of Grace Aviation, any such reticence was cast aside in a joyful housewarming party at the Grace farmhouse (which Terri, Harm, and Mattie attended).

The evening was centred round a simple friendship ceremony, where Julia and Beth gave each other matching rings. Mattie was sufficiently aware of the ways of the world to understand what was going on between the two women - and to hug Beth and Julia as part of the group happiness.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Thursday 25th December 2003 - 12:55hrs EST - Christmas 2003**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb, (along with Ellie and David and Mattie of course)**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

By common agreement, Christmas 2003 was celebrated as a time of great optimism for everyone involved in Harm and Terri's family and their circle of friends. They were able to begin to return several years' worth of hospitality by inviting Bud Roberts and Harriet, with their children, to join them for Christmas Day dinner.

The Roberts family continued their long-standing tradition of a party on Christmas Eve, before Midnight Mass at "the JAG church" as it had become known. During the afternoon of Christmas Eve, the growing Coulter-Rabb family had visited the Vietnam Memorial, to update Harmon Rabb sr on their progress since their last visit to his marker.

Thomas Chaddock was on duty at the shelter which he supported with time and effort; he had become a qualified counsellor in the meantime and Terri was so proud that her father was standing straight and tall whilst putting something back into the community. She would be visiting the shelter later, accompanied by Harm and (all three of) the children, with turkey sandwiches and soft drinks for an impromptu Christmas party ahead of Chaddock's arrival for a Friday lunch the next day.

Terri had taken up "Ducky" Mallard's story about December 26th being called "Boxing Day" in British tradition. Two years on from that awful Boxing Day exploration of the freezers in Georgetown, Terri was looking forward to a joyous family-focussed day on the 26th.

As another unexpected bonus, Sergei had also secured a US tourist visa for a visit to the Coulter-Rabb household. This meant that Terri got to meet the thin, polite young Russian pilot - as did Trisha and Frank, who were staying over for this Christmas and New Year.

There was no hesitation in Trisha's hug and welcoming kiss for Sergei (although Harm had warned Sergei - and sounded out Frank Burnett - in advance about the possibility of some reticence on Trisha's part).

 **Mrs. Burnett welcomed Mamma Zhukov's son as her own. The circle begun by Harmon Rabb Sr, all those years ago on the farm in the Russian taiga, was firmly, formally and joyously closed.**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

All of the extra parenting activity in late 2003 gave Terri a useful distraction from the inevitable pressures of her mainstream FBI autopsy and investigation work and her USNR ME duties. She revelled in being a mom to Ellie and David plus learning about the joys, tribulations, rewards and distractions of fostering and incorporating a bright teenage girl into their existing family unit.

As always, Teresa took the new challenge in her stride, enjoying the loving support of her multi-tasking husband.

Harm had sneaked a joke "Wonder Woman" costume under the Christmas tree. Correctly sized and anatomically correct for Terri, it featured on many of the Rabb Family Christmas 2003 (and 2004) photographs!

Somehow, Teresa always felt the comforting and encouraging presence of her late mother's spirit at her shoulder as she built the relationship with Mattie. This feeling was helpful to Terri, as she worked hard to earn the trust - and later the love - of this bruised teenager who had so much spirit and love to give.

Terri and Harm had been certain that Mattie would have been crushed if she had been taken onto " _The System_ " - however well-meaning that system might try to be - and so they were eternally grateful to be able to treat and regard Mattie as "theirs".

Mattie gradually opened up and returned their love. Fortunately, the Coulter-Rabb home in Nebraska Avenue was more than large enough to welcome the new arrival. Entering the second half of her thirties, Terri was old enough and experienced enough to take on the role of "Mom" to a teenager, whilst being young enough to remember the angst of being a teenager - and an only child in a troubled family as well.

Although she could (and would) never replace Mattie's natural mother, she was well-equipped and very determined to fill the gap as much as possible - and as far as Mattie was comfortable to allow her in.

In fact, she need not have worried – because Teresa's efforts were very much appreciated from "day one".

One evening at the end of Mattie's first week at home in Nebraska Avenue, the teenager kicked off her shoes and snuggled up against Terri on the large settee in the lounge. Mattie then let out the biggest-ever sigh of contentment that Terri had heard in her life.

Terri ran a hand gently over Mattie's mop of ginger hair, comforting the teenager who seemed to alternate between a forthright, precocious young woman and a nervous teenager girl who had been through hell (as she indeed was).

Barely audible, Mattie whispered a single phrase into Terri's shoulder.

" _This feels like home_ ".

Terri's heart swelled with pride; she had gained the confidence and trust of a young adolescent woman who had known significant emotional trauma.

Terri thought back to how, as her marriage to Rory Coulter had crumbled, she had given up on her hopes of becoming a mother. The April 1998 happenstance meeting with Harm - and the fantastic night which followed - had unexpectedly jump-started her motherhood career. With the arrival of Ellen and then David, Terri knew that she had regained the confidence and the desire to succeed as a mother.

Mattie's arrival in their lives had proved once more that her god had a sense of humour - and she was joyfully grateful for the opportunity which this presented. She also knew that she would never have succeeded without Harmon Rabb Jr standing alongside her at her shoulder - as an equal and as her supporter - through the experiences.

Terri worried – for a fleeting second – that the "home" expression might have been influenced by the fact that Mattie merely wanted some kind of mother-figure in her life. But then Terri rationalised that Mattie had overcome all of the adversities and had kept the aviation business in Blacksburg afloat after her mom's death and the disappearance of her father. Accordingly, Terri was content that Mattie's declaration was honestly-stated, truly deep-seated and came from the girl's heart.

Leaning down, she ruffled Mattie's mop of ginger hair and kissed the crown of her head, whispering "Well in that case, darling Mattie, welcome home".

Mattie turned around on the sofa, wrapped her arms around Terri's waist and sighed once more - another deep sigh of total contentment at the new situation. Ten minutes later, she was asleep. Terri followed her into slumber some time later.

Having awoken just as the television programme that he had stayed up to watch ended, Harm looked across at his two "older women".

He went into the study and returned with his Navajo blanket, which he gently laid over the pair of them and left them sleeping as he headed off for bed.

Some time later in the night, the two Coulter-Rabb women awoke and headed up to their respective bedrooms, hugging each other all the way up the stairs.

 **Mattie Coulter-Rabb was home. She was also ready to help plan her new-little-sister's 5th birthday party at the start of the New Year.**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **A New Year - 2004**

Harm and Terri's careers continued into (and through) 2004, occasionally consulting with each other but more-usually wrapped up entirely in the separate workloads which came from separate careers in JAG and in the FBI.

Terri's workload, in particular, took her away from the FBI HQ building occasionally, as the nascent Department for Homeland Security entered its second year of full operation. She helped to develop the mentoring programme for junior MEs.

Importantly (following earlier experiences) she also participated in the "seasoning" process for junior agents, taking at least one "novice" with her (in addition to the usual-sized FBI team) for every investigation, thereby increasing the momentum of the process to grow the population of FBI agents.

Each time she brought a probationary agent into the team, she invoked the story of Mary Grishenko as a cautionary tale. Her standard line that " _I do not want to find you on my mortuary table_ " helped to concentrate the young minds of the probies.

The fact remained, however, that as fast as the FBI could deliver fully-qualified agents, the demands kept increasing.

DHS leaned heavily upon FBI speciality teams to plug gaps in resourcing. Harm didn't miss the annoying parallel problems caused by Clayton Webb occasionally treating the JAG office and NCO teams as resource pools for his ham-fisted CIA operations (which Harm side-stepped, resisted and then refused with increasing vigour and insistence).

Nevertheless, Terri and her FBI colleagues always tried to be polite and to smile willingly when DHS brought them interesting - and often "challenging" (aka " _annoyingly time-consuming_ ") - caseloads which often blew their planned FBI workloads out of the water!

Terri and Harm took pleasure from their settled home life and they always enjoyed getting home to the house on Nebraska Avenue where their strong family life was centred.

Harm found himself working through a wide range of judicial cases through the early part of 2004, alongside growing into his duties as sudden father to a teenage daughter as well as father to a first-grader (Ellen loved her first school and was thriving) and his toddler son.

These additional " _dad to a teenager_ " duties included one memorable meeting with Mattie's English teacher - a meeting where Mattie's business letters in support of Grace Aviation stood her in good stead, and got her a good pass on the previous term's assignments (a term which Mattie had missed and which had – initially – threatened to earn her a "FAIL" for the year).

With that hurdle overcome, Mattie's academic record developed in leaps and bounds as she steadily overcame and then eliminated the gaps in her education. She was also benefitting from a stable home-life, fewer distractions and regular nutrition with fresh food in place of her earlier pizza obsession! This was reflected in her growth spurt.

Mattie also tried out for (and won a place in) both the swimming team and the softball team, with considerable success. Harm felt that, every time he turned around, Mattie had grown another half-inch. His daughter had clearly acquired her late mother's legs and athletic grace, shedding the "puppy fat" and growing into a willowy young woman. Good fitness levels would obviously help with the US Navy college application process in due course.

Thinking back to the comments by his (unnamed) colleague to Terri back in October, Harm was certain that marriage had strengthened him - and his performance in every aspect. The world - and his and Terri's world - was a better place because of his marriage and for the love and support which Terri gave him. The 2003 Christmas night had been nigh-on perfect, in Harm's view.

 **He would not have wished it any other way.**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Easter weekend 2004**

 **Saturday 10th April 2004**

 **The home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Teresa Coulter-Rabb, (along with Ellie and David and Mattie of course)**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Reviewing Mattie's end of term school report card, Harm was very proud to remark to Terri: "Hey, we have a really bright kid on our hands."

Terri hugged him and commented: "Less of the kid, more of an emerging young woman."

Through the progression of Mattie's first term in her new school in DC, it became blindingly obvious to all concerned that " _educational attainment_ " would never be one of the deficits marked on the US Naval Academy's readiness checklist for the potential Midshipman Matilda Grace Coulter-Rabb in the entry class of '08. The Navy was ready, should Mattie desire to go down that career path. Her new school was clearly impressed with her.

She and Mattie were bonding further as the teenager continued to morph into a young woman through 2004. Mattie was also grateful to have a supportive and knowledgeable female doctor around to help explain the developmental changes which, inevitably, were occurring to her adolescent body.

Mattie's body was rapidly catching up after a period of "suspended development" whilst she had dealt with the multiple stresses of her mom's death, Tom Johnson's addiction and the challenges of keeping Grace Aviation in the air.

Harm gladly declined the opportunity to accompany mother and daughter when the time came to buy the next bra!

Terri simply kept pace with Mattie's clothing requirements. One day, buying new summer blouses, Terri was stunned into silence when without hesitation Mattie turned to her and said "I reckon these look good, mom". When she relayed this story to Harm, he simply kissed her and expressed his pride at of the way in which Mattie was growing within the bosom of the Coulter-Rabb family.

On the Saturday evening of Easter, just before the family headed out for an evening at a local family-run restaurant, Harm's breath was taken away as he suddenly met an elegant young woman in the hallway of his home.

With her ginger hair braided back, a white collared blouse beneath a simple cardigan, a skirt over dark stockings and low-heeled pumps, finished off with the delicate touch of make-up from Terri's spare cosmetics box, Mattie had suddenly blossomed. She stood, tall and self-assured, turning slowly so that Terri could secure her gold necklace as a finishing touch. Mattie then took six-year-old Ellen and "nearly-two" David and led her younger siblings out to the car.

Harm and Terri just stood back and watched in joyous admiration. Harm had a few proud tears sparkling in his eyes as he watched the young woman leading her younger siblings.

At the restaurant, when he bumped into Admiral Amy Helfman and her grown-up daughters, Harm was so proud to be complimented on " _your beautiful family_ " (as he should be proud, looking at the culmination of hard work by the father and mother combined Coulter-Rabb team!)

 **Saturday 17th April 2004**

The following Saturday, eating in Applebee's on their way back from a day trip to Chesapeake Bay, Harm and Terri were delighted to see Mattie blush as she realised that a (well-behaved, well-dressed and "out with his parents") teenage boy was looking admiringly at her. Terri followed Mattie's gaze and nodded approvingly to the boy's mother.

Suddenly, Terri began to wonder whether Mary Grishenko's parents might have been on to something with Mary's "Silver Ring Thing" pledge! She decided that, as Mattie had a good, well-settled head on her shoulders, she would hold off from offering an opinion until Mattie sought out the views of her guardians when the subject of " _my first boyfriend_ " reared its ugly head.

However, the comforting fact remained that Mattie was growing up inside a supportive family and her parents would always be there to advise her, support her and lay down any appropriate guidelines as her development continued.

Even so, Terri was determined to draw just one single big red line - only across the path that might lead young Mattie towards the cheerleading team!

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Tuesday 20th April 2004**

As to the trial relating to the "Motherhood Killer" murders and the kidnap of Faith Coleman: time dragged by. The evidence was safely stored and the autopsy evidence was indisputable.

The legal arguments had lasted from the moment of his arrest in December 2002 until early 2004. Harm and Terri had enjoyed the distraction created by building a suitable nest into which Mattie Grace could be safely and successfully adopted, since they had first met her on Halloween 2003.

Throughout 2003 and into 2004, the arguments surrounding the "UNSub94" case ground ever onwards. This delay left Harm, Terri, Ellie, David and (eventually) Mattie to concentrate on building the cohesive family unit which Harm, Terri and Mattie had all (in one way or another) lacked from their childhood and which Ellie and David would always have wrapped around them.

The word "home" had assumed a level of supreme importance and the growing Coulter-Rabb "tribe" had a structure based upon love.

With love, the Coulter-Rabb tribe would weather, resist and overcome *any* challenge that might beset it - even ill-informed (or jealous!) comments from Harm's peers as he continued to mature as a married man. The family unit was solid and could face down all the nasty things that the world might throw at them.

 **Because that's what families do.**

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 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 17 "Domestic Harmony?" (Part 30) and "Mattie Grace Coulter-Rabb" (Part 31)**


	18. Trial of Faith : Unhappy landings

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 18 - parts 32 and 33)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed.

 **A/N:** Ch 18: and now, the trial of Faith's kidnapper and captor (and Alison Krennick's kidnapper and killer). Then (as often happens after an horrific event), a good outcome is formulated. As in many military families, career considerations and new opportunities intrude into our story. My grateful thanks to "Syrae" as my helpful beta-reader for Ch 18.

 **A/N:** Allusion to canon: "Smoked" (S01Ep14), "JAG TV" (S06Ep05) and "Hail & Farewell Pt One" (S09Ep23) plus "JAG: San Diego" (S10Ep17) re-imagining Mattie's crash at the suggestion of my reviewer "Saissa".

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 **Phase Eighteen of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Trial of Faith" and "Unhappy landings".**

A/N Publication date 07-12-2018: ...and now, on with Chapter Eighteen; the trial of the murdering kidnapper. Then Mattie's flying lesson encounters an unexpected problem.

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 **Chapter 18 - Part 32 - "Trial of Faith".**

 **Monday 10th May 2004, 10:48hrs EST**

 **Outside the US Supreme Court, Washington DC**

 _ **"OK people; we now have a decision from the Supreme Court on when we can set a date. This will enable this poor excuse for a human being to finally begin to answer for his horrendous crimes. This brings justice for all these wonderful, loved, capable but ultimately-defenceless women, stretching back we believe to at least 1988. So, some 18 months after the rescue (alive) of his final alleged victim, we can proceed to trial".**_

The federal prosecutor had laid out her case, was determinedly not going to be trying the case in the court of public opinion and was ready to proceed in a court of law. Standing on the steps of the Supreme Court, she was continuing to damp down the media-based battle ahead of the court case and she wanted the world to remember all the victims.

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A foreign civilian had been involved in the kidnapping of a US naval JAG, along with the kidnapping and murder of nine other US military personnel across multiple state lines and the kidnapping and murder of six civilian women across a similar geographic area. The case also involved a multitude of unborn babies within all of his murdered victims apart from the barren "A4". These factors all meant that the correct venue for the court to try the case was subject to long, tortuous and involved debate, discussion and lawsuits.

Throughout 2003 and into 2004, everybody had wanted a piece of the " _case of the decade_ ". The accused was a multi-millionaire. His company was valued in the range of billions as a result of the new fertility and anaesthesia products which - ironically - Faith and Alison and the other women had clearly been used to test without their consent.

These circumstances brought on a "feeding frenzy" amongst the assembled legal teams - and the Fourth Estate. The case had aspects of everything to fuel the interest of high-brow and low-rent newspapers - from broadsheets to tabloids. The National Enquirer had run two articles in the previous six months - re-publishing the "Armed and Fabulous" photograph from Terri's rescue of Faith at the coal-mine.

The UK government and the UK legal system had become more-heavily involved when the pre-trial investigations revealed that the original 1988 victim was a British exchange student from Winchester, Hampshire in England. The recovery of all the frozen bodies had - finally - enabled one grieving British family to bring their daughter home at last.

The little parish church at Kings Somborne welcomed her home to her final resting place in the gently-rolling Hampshire downlands. The trial and the court case would give the parents and sister what they wanted and needed - final closure. Most importantly, they now had an answer to the question which had tormented them for 15 years - " _where did you go?_ "

The UK High Court became involved, because the accused was the primary shareholder in his business based in the UK. A legal action for compensation was launched, by British barristers representing the US government on behalf of the families of the US victims. To this case was joined a claim on behalf of Faith Coleman and her new-born twins.

Money was - of course - at the heart of the debates, leaving Justice to come a poor second.

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The JAG team in Falls Church HQ looked on in bemused indifference as the legal manoeuvrings played out. Their goal was simply to ensure that their colleague - Commander Faith Coleman - was compensated for her terrifying ordeal and that her children were protected.

Obviously the JAG legal teams were involved in preparing the case details for the murders of the military officers. This was a body of information which Catherine Knox, the civilian DA, would be picking up and tapping into when she began leading the prosecution.

Catherine had spent a lot of time, during the intervening years, getting to know the details of both the sets of military victims. Along with the civilian victims whom she had also researched, she knew them almost as friends when she stood up to open the court case. It was natural for Harm to work closely with Terri when she was assembling the evidence, under Catherine's overall direction. The US Navy and USAF were determined to look after their own. NCIS and AFOSI had been fully engaged in the court case preparation.

" _Justice for Alison Krennick_ " was a far quieter - but equally determined - call.

After many months of fruitless and often circular arguing (and not a little grandstanding), eventually the matter had been thrown over the wall, in an expedited submission, to the US Supreme Court. The Supreme Court judgement, when published, directed that the trial should be held in Washington DC and must start within one year and a day of the date of the Justices' judgement. The overall reaction to the judgement was " _who wants to wait another year?_ "

 _Thus it was that the trial date was set for Monday 17th May 2004, just one week later: everyone now wanted to get the matter settled_ **.**

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 **Monday 17th May 2004, 09:55hrs EST - The Trial, Day One**

 **Court Number One, Central Federal Courthouse, Washington DC**

The court case began on schedule and soon settled into a rhythm, following Catherine's opening statement on the first morning after the (remarkably-smooth) process of jury empanelling.

Somehow, Terri's comment about " _ **kicking him to death every day and resurrecting him at dawn to face it all over again**_ " had been caught on a grainy video (pirated from unaired low-light footage filmed by the FBI documentary team which had accompanied the HRT on that fateful dawn in West Virginia back in December 2002). Somehow, the pirated footage made it into public knowledge. Terri's phrase, uttered calmly and quietly in the run-up to the rescue of a hostage, captured the public imagination perfectly.

The line would eventually find its way into the TV docu-drama which was being written about the case. Terri cringed when she finally heard which buxom blonde American actress would be portraying her in the TV movie! The research colleagues of the actress had already contacted Terri to find out where she had purchased her clothes and footwear - and her model of Desert Eagle. Although Harm was able to calm her worst fears (based upon his experience of Renee the "Video Princess" and the USN recruitment video), Terri had a bad feeling about the eventual version of the upcoming film...

As the FBI's foremost Medical Examiner for the DC region, Terri spent whole weeks in court giving evidence during the trial. The prosecution led the jury, victim by victim, through the timelines of their deaths, the state of their bodies, their likely (mis-)treatment and the likely duration and timelines of their imprisonment, impregnation and pregnancies.

To be fair, the defence team did their best - the accused had spent a lot of money on assembling his defence team - but even the lead defence attorney looked " _green around the gills_ " when Terri took the court through the gruesome pictures of the first freezer to be opened and the contents therein. Her evidential process took the jury through EVERY freezer and the details of EVERY victim (including "A4" and her shallow grave in West Virginia); all were discussed and presented equally. There was truly equality in death.

The exception was Alison Krennick, where Terri had a plan (agreed with Catherine Knox) to delve into more detail, using Alison's case as the exemplar.

The mood of the defence team grew steadily more depressed as the weeks - and the detailed body count - mounted. Somehow, the pictures of "A4" - dumped uncaringly, barely buried, in a deserted field in the middle of nowhere, callously discarded without a grave marker and separated from other parts of her anatomy - caused the jury members greater grief than the dressed, posed, frozen victims found open-eyed in their individual freezers.

It was clear that the Prosecution's closing statement relating to "A4" - " _ **she could have been lost out there forever**_ " - hit home with the jury members.

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 **Friday 21st May 2004, 22:35hrs EST**

 **Restaurant, Falls Church VA - "Dining Out" ceremony for Rear Adm. AJ Chegwidden (retiring);**

As he bade farewell to the group of lawyers and staff whom he had led for two four-year tours (longer than any other JAG in history), Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden took Terri to one side.

"Mrs. Rabb, you have achieved the impossible and I just wanted to compliment you."

"Oh yes, Admiral?" Terri looked across the room to where Harm was chatting with Mac, both in their ceremonial uniforms; Terri had decided to go with a pale blue ball gown.

"Yes - your husband is now displaying a depth of maturity and a sense of consideration and leadership which I always suspected he had, yet he never displayed it before your arrival on the scene. So, Mrs. Rabb, on behalf of all Harm's colleagues - thank you for helping the man to emerge and finally grow up. I am confident that 'Peter Pan' has finally found his wonderful 'Wendy' - to the benefit of us all."

Terri smiled broadly at the compliment and thanked AJ. They shook hands and then the Admiral began his final farewells, before collecting his cover and gloves and walking out towards a well-deserved retirement.

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 **Thursday 10th June 2004, 21:07hrs EST**

 **The home of Cmdr. Harmon Rabb and Terri Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

The night before she started giving evidence on Alison Krennick's case, Terri took Harm aside and asked him to describe Alison and talk about the woman and JAG officer that she had been. Terri had settled in Harm's lap on the sofa before she asked her question as they relaxed after their evening meal and after getting the kids to bed. Mattie was beavering away in the study on her school project work, which had to be turned in during the final run-up to the school summer vacation.

"Harm, honey: tomorrow I am going to stand up and tell the court (of lawyers, judges, Press reporters and ' _twelve good people and true_ ') how Commander Alison Krennick, USN JAG Corps, died. I can detail her height, weight, fitness, stage of pregnancy, how and where the poison was administered and how she was probably shackled so that she could not even raise her hands to defend herself as she was executed, like a steer in a slaughterhouse."

She paused before continuing, thinking back to that first moment when Alison's frozen tomb had been opened.

"I touched her frozen body. I looked into her still-open eyes (long after life had ended), I brushed the frost off her nameplate, I marvelled at the heels on her shoes and I later puzzled at the wedding ring that she (then we found all the victims the same) was wearing. I subsequently undressed her and found out how the uniform had been stitched around her pregnant form and I carried out the autopsy along with Ducky Mallard."

She shuddered and drew breath before continuing.

"But what I cannot do - because I never knew her - is describe how Alison lived and the kind of woman who she was. So, putting aside the Navy service and personnel files on Alison, tell me about Alison the woman and Alison the character (and I hear that she was *quite* a character!)."

Sighing, she caressed her husband's hands. "I've spent more time than I would want to, describing every single one of the women whom he killed from 1988 onwards in the trial so far and I am only halfway through the death list. So I need you, darling Harm, to help me to humanise Alison for tomorrow. Her story deserves to be told, emphasising Alison the woman and Alison the JAG Commander and lawyer, not just Alison the slaughtered pregnant victim."

Terri explained her thought processes. "We have a unique chance tomorrow, to humanise at least one of this bastard's poor victims and to drive home to the jury the absolute senseless horror and waste of what this bastard did, year after bloody year, until we stopped him through brave Faith Coleman. I want to honour Alison's memory - using her to explain, in grim unrelenting detail, how he killed one particular good woman. I want to use her as the exemplar for all the bastard's innocent victims – and I know that all these women are important".

She paused then looked, pleadingly, into Harm's eyes. "I also realise that - for you - Alison Krennick is more than a case file. By the same token, she is more - much more - than victim number 'N2' to me because I have access to a store of reliable information about her - namely you. We have spoken to family members of some of the victims, but I value your judgement and I know that you worked with her - and more perhaps..." she smiled knowingly, ending in a pregnant silence with her eyebrows raised enquiringly.

Harm kissed her, pulled her to him and they snuggled down on the settee, then Harm began.

"Well, first of all, she had a really crap choice in hairstyles but I remember she was as brave as a lion chasing a Russian assassin when we found ourselves protecting Boris Yeltsin…" He paused, thinking of Alison dodging Hemlock's bullets then chasing him down, in three-inch heels, in the basement car park of the hotel.

He smiled at the memory, then continued.

"But then again Terri, Alison Krennick *is* definitely the only woman to chase me round a desk, I must admit! She was, I suspect, basically lonely in command and she hadn't established the subtle and experienced approach which single women - in my experience - usually develop as they go out in search of a mate."

"She kept herself fit – she would always be out running during her down-time when we were deployed together and she often cycled between social events around town. She mentioned losing the love of her life on the one occasion that she opened up. I know that she spoke with Meg Austin when I was being held by the Chinese back in '95 and was honest about her attraction to me. I reckon, from what Meg said, that the conversation was difficult for both of them."

"She was a good litigator but a poor investigator (it happens sometimes) and she earned the nickname of "Dragon Lady". But she understood the politics of JAG and Washington, so she could ultimately have gone a long way up the greasy pole in DC.

"Her litigation skills were top-notch – she gave Tom Boone a run for his money over a Tomcat mishap where he'd tangled with a Serbian helicopter. She failed to realise that, as the CAG, he would know the board who were sitting in judgement on him. She lost that case, graciously, but she always put the Navy first – as viewed in her eyes."

"She went where the evidence took her but didn't always look behind the evidence; she took my guilt at face value over Diane and it was only Meg, my partner, who found the exculpatory evidence. Alison would have quite happily shipped me off to Leavenworth without a moment's thought."

"So, she was relentless in court and very focussed on her career. She brought in (mostly) good results and she encouraged adherence to the rules – so long as someone could bring the evidence."

"She always encouraged her subordinates – she was a good leader. I agree with Straker, the US forces have lost a number of potential senior leaders in years to come. Alison took the time to mentor and encourage junior officers (thinking back, they were mostly male!) but I also know that she mentored several younger female JAGs as well."

"She may, however, have been lonely and unable to compensate for her lack of successful long-term relationships. Hell, look at how Faith has blossomed since her ordeal - although I suspect that her kids have been a large cause of little OCD Robot Faith becoming human Mommy Faith and lovely nice Colleague Faith. As far as I know, Alison never married."

Terri turned in his arms and looked up at him.

"So what did Alison do that put you off letting her have her wicked way with you, whereas you allowed me in that night in Arizona back in '98?"

Harm sighed. "Because I had a choice with her just as I had a choice with you, darling Teresa: and that night in '98 I *chose* to let *you* in."

He looked away for a moment. "And I am just *so* glad that I did. But Alison just struck me as having the morals of an alley cat and she didn't get my blood pumping - that darn silly hair style never suited her face yet she never grew it out, but I know that she had a fit body underneath that all-concealing Navy uniform".

Ha paused and looked down at her, gently stroking her forearm: "You obviously can't use that last bit in court, darling."

"What, the morals or the hairstyle or the body?" Terri joked. Harm glared at her and she looked contrite before she realised how to turn the tables and retaliate.

Terri rolled over in his arms and looked up at him. "Hey, Tomcat, how *did* you find out about her body - which obviously impressed you at some point - yes?"

Harm smiled. "Well, she turned up in her jogging or cycling gear either side of a mission which took us both to Cuba; she had a great set of legs and her body moulded itself into a tracksuit top which, I suspect, was all that she was wearing. The next week, she turned up in Summer Whites and headed straight for my shower (which was occupied by a 'friend'!). She was fit - and, by the way, darling wife, your improving fitness levels after the babies have been appreciated."

"OK, I agree; hey, stop changing the subject, although it was a nice deflection, counsellor!" replied Terri. "Thanks Harm; that is useful background on Alison for the court tomorrow."

She stood up and extended a hand down to her husband. "Come on Tomcat, bedtime."

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 **Friday 23rd July 2004, 11:27hrs EST**

 **Court Number One, Central Federal Courthouse, Washington DC**

The jury had been taken through evidence relating to the science and the logistics of the capture and murder of the victims of the "Motherhood Killer". Catherine Knox had built a formidable caseload and evidence base, backed up by audio-visual aids and a comprehensive set of charts and posters to help get the complexities of the case across to the jurors.

When it became her time to give evidence about the " _rescue & recovery night_" (following a number of weeks during which she had given evidence about all the dead women), Terri fell back on her simple statement that " _ **the rule of law must be paramount - which is why we are all here today. It is why the accused has a right to be tried in a court of law, by a jury of his peers. It is why I made that statement on that morning, to explain why the law of the jungle has no place in our country - and why, by the same token, I believe that murder is wrong**_ ".

She had completed her evidence and the defence counsel had been pushing a non-productive line of questioning about whether the accused had been treated fairly during his arrest. Terri's final comment about murder being wrong neatly wrapped up her response and left the door closed against any smart-aleck responses from the defence.

Wisely, the defence counsel decided at that point to bring the cross-examination to a close! No-one ever mentioned the accused's broken rib!

The trial segment on the ABC "Sixty Minutes" news programme drew a worldwide audience, and Terri's marksmanship was widely discussed, examined and unanimously approved. Particularly in the UK, there was also a strong body of opinion supporting her position that the justice system should take its slow, cumbersome, neutral viewpoint.

When interviewed, Terri always made a point of referring to her "lovely supportive husband". She was just so proud of how his work performance had been maintained - or even improved - as he grew into his role as her husband.

Terri knew that she had been lucky, that April week in 1998, to have met this wonderful man. However, in the prison system someone was not enjoying any such run of luck or happiness.

In most prison systems around the world, the prisoners establish their own hierarchy within the prison walls. With child-killers at the bottom, those who have killed woman come only slightly higher up the pecking order. After the first three incidents of " _walking into a wall in the shower_ " in the remand wing of the local prison, the accused **"** _ **Motherhood Killer**_ **"** had to be held in solitary confinement after he staggered out of the hospital wing on the third occasion. This was a response by the prison authorities, just to ensure that he would be alive (and upright) to face trial.

Few people within the justice system expended any pity on his apparent clumsiness when faced with the unquestioningly-simple challenge of staying upright on a wet floor.

Despite his "accidents" however, the interests of British "fair play" ensured a groundswell of opinion, in the UK at least.

The consolidated UK view was that (whatever he had done to the US women and the solitary British student) the poor bastard deserved to be standing upright for his trial.

This level of sympathy was limited, however, especially after the details of the young British victim from 1988 were recounted to the court.

As one of the British tabloid newspapers succinctly summed up the case, they supported a fair trial " _even if the Yanks fry the bastard in the end!_ "

The trial proceedings ground inexorably onwards into the heat of a Washington August.

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 **Thursday 5th August 2004, 10:15hrs EST**

 **Court Number One, Central Federal Courthouse, Washington DC**

The eventual appearance of the lone surviving victim of the "Motherhood Killer", ready to give evidence in the third month of the trial, caused another spike in press attention.

Faith had turned up to the Federal Courthouse every day during the trial, ready to give evidence at any point in the proceedings. She had a good library of books to read through whilst she awaited her "day in court". The TV company who were making the documentary about her experience had provided a nanny and nursery nurse, so that the twins were always cared for. Additionally after 18 months waiting for the court case to get started, Faith was looking forward to sitting in the public gallery to watch proceedings, once she had given her evidence and was no longer sequestered outside the courtroom.

This was to be the case which broke Juanita Ressler's much-vaunted " _never lost a case_ " track record.

More worryingly, Ressler received a significant amount of hate mail for taking on the defence case. (After she had given her evidence, Faith made a point of writing an opinion piece supporting Juanita Ressler in the Law Review and the Washington Post, decrying the " _demonisation of an excellent lawyer who is giving an accused person the best possible chance of an excellent defence - as allowed, specified and provided by right under our Constitution_ ").

With the unexpected support from Faith Coleman batting on her side, Juanita Ressler's hate-filled inflow of mail lessened substantially.

The defence team, even though they were publicly acknowledged to be fighting a hopeless case, did their best for their client. This caused Faith to spend three days in the witness box. Faith was in her element as she gave evidence calmly and rationally, methodically destroying every hypothesis which the defence team put forward in their (expected) efforts to mitigate his almost unimaginable crimes.

The novelty of this case lay in the fact that many serial killers ended up dying in the final shoot-out, so the legal system played this court case for all it was worth. At Faith's request, Harm and Mac (along with Carolyn Imes and Alan Mattoni) had also spent time with her, coaching her and evaluating possible defence questions and developing countermeasures.

Owen Sebring had also joined in some of the sessions, to give an indication of what a judge would be looking for in a competent witness. Following the death of his wife, he had re-emerged as a more-jovial, more-involved member of the JAG judiciary. He had become well-known as being willing to participate in mentoring and passing on his vast range of experience.

He was also motivated by a burning sense of injustice, focussed on the killer. Losing your wife to illness was one thing, but for the accused to murder his way through 15 good women really caught Owen's attention.

All the preparation paid off. Faith was nearly "bullet-proof" as she marched into the courtroom that day and took her place in the witness stand.

Additionally, Faith's OCD came in handy during the cross-examination, but her excellent lawyering skills also served her well as she tore shreds and lumps out of the defence team's hypotheses. Without giving evidence of declaring war on her inquisitor, Faith's icily-delivered repertoire of rebuttals made the evening news across the USA and were remembered by all who saw the Court TV segments:

" _that is unlikely because..._ "

" _that would not seem to match with my understanding of the evidence in this case_..."

" _that is illogical - why on earth would..._ "

" _the evidence presented would not support that fanciful notion..._ "

" _do you really believe that such a scenario would be possible, given the circumstances?_ "

" _Well, perhaps that would be just barely possible in the other parallel universe, but here on Planet Earth it would seem that..._ "

" _I would find that difficult to accredit to a supposedly card-carrying member of the human race_ "

Her final " _excuse me, but how many dead women does it take to realise you are not getting a date with your approach?_ " made headlines around the world. Faith had spotted that line in a British newspaper (where the actual line of print had reproduced the British expression: " _How many dead women does it take, before you realise that you're not going to get a shag_?") and had sanitised the final word for a wider audience.

 _ **(**_ **#A/N: dear reader** , for shag reference, please see Austin Powers! **end-A/N)**

Admiral Chegwidden, summoned (to his evident disdain) by the defence team as a character witness to rebut Faith's character, maintained his patience until Juanita's side-kick made the near-fatal mistake of criticising " _an OCD compulsive_ " as she tried, once again, to blacken Faith's name.

Given that a court trial is high theatre and a licenced form of public abuse, Chegwidden allowed the lawyer some leeway before he buried her with one simple response.

" _Ms. Wilson, as Professor Ressler *must* have explained to you when you were learning the law at kindergarten level, at the heart of every good lawyer lies an intense, focussed, detail-oriented ability to marshal and process facts. I was proud to have Commander Coleman assigned TAD to my JAG HQ for the project in which she was engaged before she vanished for almost a year. My office is much the poorer, having been deprived of her skills for well-over two years since the night when your client '_ _allegedly'_ _kidnapped her. Commander Faith Coleman was, is and is demonstrably continuing to be qualified as an excellent lawyer - so you would do well to try to emulate Commander Coleman's level of detail as you try to grow during your own career, long after this case has concluded and your career progression (hopefully) resumes._ "

The Admiral emphasised the word " _allegedly_ " in his reply. He phrased it as he would use the term " _with all due respect_ " (which actually meant nothing of the sort!)

Every evening, Faith returned - under protective escort - to the FBI-protected hotel suite where she caught up once more with her children. The 15-month-old twins, Daniel and Hope, had absorbed the excitement of their Mommy coming home every night, but had not registered her being on TV and in the courtroom. This resulted from the TV viewing in the suite being, perforce, subject to a modicum of "censorship" to prevent cross-contamination of Faith's testimony.

The JAG "family" took turns to rally round with home-cooked food (Harm decided, with some forceful "encouragement" from Teresa, not to offer his infamous meatless meatloaf!) so that Faith and her children enjoyed, in so far as was possible, a relaxed family environment whilst the trial was running.

Throughout the entire duration of the trial, Sunday lunch at the Coulter-Rabb home helped to maintain an impression of normality and was a regular fixture in the calendar throughout the proceedings. The house rules precluded any discussions on the case. Faith used these opportunities to continue planning her life after the court case. She remained convinced that life as a JAG lawyer suited her just fine. She had tried on her old uniform one evening, discovering that it would still fit her (admittedly quite snugly!) whenever she was cleared to return to duty. She had increased her fitness regime a little, aiming to be "fighting fit" when she walked back into JAG.

Eventually on the third day of her evidence, the lead defence counsel looked Faith squarely in the eyes and nodded in defeat as she knew that Faith's testimony - along with the sheer weight of evidence (due in large part to Terri Coulter-Rabb's diligence) - had convinced the jury. The accused would not be walking away from this.

The judge summed up the case and the evidence as she directed the jury before they were to be sequestered to consider their verdict on the Monday morning. She asked them to deliver - if at all possible - a unanimous verdict.

During their testimony, Terri and her colleagues had taken the courts through the minutiae of every victim. They gave a name to every victim and, on average, spent four hours (almost a day) describing her life, what she had achieved, what her career goals and aspirations had been - and how she had met her death at the hands of the "Motherhood Killer". At the end, Terri was particularly satisfied and confident that she had done justice to the memory of Alison Krennick.

The further FBI evidence tracked the killer's movements, purchases and the products which his company had not fully released onto the commercial market. The chemical signatures were an exact match to the chemicals within the victims - from a time when they were not licenced for use on humans and, more importantly, not generally available on the open market. All of this evidence made it into the trial.

The prosecution had built a bomb-proof and earthquake-proof case against the accused.

 **Juanita Ressler knew that there would be no miracle exoneration of the "Motherhood Killer"**. Her previously outstanding trial success record had collected its first ding.

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 **Thursday 19th August 2004, 15:13hrs EST**

 **Outside the Central Federal Courthouse, Washington DC**

Catherine Knox relaxed in the warm breeze blowing across the courthouse steps.

" _ **Guilty on all charges; recommendation for consecutive life sentences, without parole.**_ "

She knew that she had done her job well - and so had every member of her prosecution team. They had spoken eloquently for the victims and had secured a resounding conviction.

 _ **"OK people; now it is time to close the book on this criminal, lock him away and forget him, then celebrate the good outcomes from this case."**_

 _ **.**_

The judge had sent the jury out on the Monday morning and they had sat, deliberating, through the Monday evening, returning from their secured hotel to continue on the Tuesday morning and continuing until they had an agreed verdict.

It turned out that part of their delayed deliberations had stemmed from their desire, established early on that first day (as they met to form the jury and choose a foreman before beginning their deliberations), that the verdict should - if at all possible - be unanimous so as to make the task of sentencing easy for the judge.

As a result, the jury had deliberated for almost four long days - hardly surprising after sitting through three months' worth of evidence. With broad smiles, the entire jury looked at Faith Coleman and Terri Coulter-Rabb, who were sitting together in the public gallery, as the jurors returned late on the morning of the fourth day to announce their verdict.

Following the unanimous jury verdict of " _ **Guilty on all charges**_ " and the (as expected) jury recommended sentence of multiple CONSECUTIVE life sentences (which made the " _without parole_ " sentence almost a gratuitously unnecessary adjunct to the sentence), the judge set the following day for sentencing. She would hear pleas in mitigation and victim impact statements from the families of the deceased victims and the sole surviving victim.

The judge also paid tribute to the " _diligence and determination of the several branches of law enforcement who have worked astonishingly hard, over an extended period of time, to assure the quality and unanimity of this verdict_ ".

Quietly and with dignity, a small acknowledgment took place at the back of the court; Terri, Gibbs and Ducky Mallard all shook hands, acknowledging the team effort which had assured this day.

Once again, Harm was incredibly proud of his Tennessee Tigress.

"Well done, Terri - you've nailed the bad guy once again; proud of ya."

Terri's blush of embarrassment at the praise from her husband, along with her overjoyed expression, told him that she appreciated his comments.

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 **Thursday 19th August 2004, 18:26hrs EST**

 **Outside the home of Cdr. Harmon Rabb and Terri Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Three hours after the verdict was announced, Terri had finally made it home. She had made a point of talking to every reporter and TV crew - both the crowd at the courthouse and the few who arrived on her doorstep - who wanted to speak with her. She took the view that everyone deserved to receive a measure of her time; these interviews would be a part of the history of her country.

Of course, one reporter would go too far!

Terri was ambivalent at the news of the sentence, following the verdict which she wholly endorsed. She could see why the jury had made their sentencing recommendation, and thus she could also see the value in keeping the convicted criminal alive, to repent and atone. However, Terri was also heavily conflicted with the contrasting meanings of two other Biblical phrases - " _an eye for an eye_ " and also the counterpoint " _Vengeance is Mine, sayeth the Lord_ ". She eventually rationalised that the courts system had to be the final arbiter in this case.

When the inevitable press interest settled once more at her doorstep, Terri decided to repeat those two Biblical phrases whilst reminding the reporters that she had done her job as an FBI ME, recovering the victims (both living and dead) and collating the evidence for the Prosecution, so that the Justice System could weigh the evidence.

The press were quite persistent in trying to seek a conflict where there was none; even so, Terri was beginning to rankle at the antics of some press reporters.

Fortunately, just as Terri was about to lose her patience with a particularly-intrusive young female reporter, Harm arrived home, picked her out of the press scrum with one arm using his height, a winning smile and a loving husbandly kiss, then gently shepherded her into their home, back-heeling the door closed.

Her gratitude that evening, for that rescue and for the end of the trial, was quite spectacular!

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 **Friday 20th August 2004, 10:00hrs**

 **Central Federal Courthouse, Washington DC**

 **Faith Coleman's** **end-of trial Victim Impact Statement:**

At the sentencing hearing the next morning, Faith Coleman stood tall and proud as she related to the court the impact that her kidnap and imprisonment had had on her, her body, her spirit and (ultimately) her beloved children. She faced the convicted killer, scorn and contempt on her face and in her voice. She had chosen to dress herself, for the first time since the night of her kidnap, in the outfit which she had worn that night - right down to the killer heels. The clothes were replacements - her original outfit had been recovered from the mine and had then sat in evidence bags for almost two years; they were unwearable.

The case had come full circle - starting with the interruption to her life on that night, she was re-starting her life today. The open white blouse drew the eye to the cross at her throat and she rested her hands on her leather-edged waist as she emphasised her major points of her experience and her arguments with her elegantly-manicured fingers to the handcuffed convicted killer in the dock before her.

" _Just over two and a half years ago, you interrupted my life in an unprovoked, disruptive and massively intrusive way. You deprived me of my liberty, you literally locked and chained me up and I have no doubt that at some time shortly afterwards - if uninterrupted by my rescue - you would have murdered me. I say this because that is what you have now been found guilty of doing to 15 other women, in a cowardly manner in every case."_

 _"You destroyed at least fifteen women's lives; you held 14, each one of them sentient, restrained and pregnant without any choice over her conception, in utter torment (based upon my experiences) for many months before you killed them. Hell, you kidnapped one poor woman who had recovered from the terror and stress of a major cancer diagnosis - and its successful treatment - and you slaughtered her immediately because she was deemed to be no use to your 'captive breeding programme - you coward!"_

 _Faith warmed to her task. "In every case, you also killed two unborn babies inside their mother. You even - coward that you are - remained cowardly at the point where you murdered each of my captive sisters - with an injection into the back of her neck so you didn't even have the guts to look her in the eye as you expunged her life force, presumably keeping her shackled to prevent her from resisting her fate. You, sir, are beneath my contempt."_

She placed a hand, theatrically, on the back of her neck and looked murderously at him.

 _"When I was released, I felt the shaved patch of skin on the back of *my* neck, so I know with certainty that you were preparing to turn me into your 16th victim_. _I stand here, today, for my naval sisters - Louise Ford, Alison Krennick, Suzanne Winchester and Amanda Barcroft, along with my eleven other sisters - all of them being the defenceless women whom you slaughtered over the years in the most cowardly manner_."

She fixed him with a glare. " _I speak in memoriam for four wonderful women in their thirties who served their country as officers in the United States Navy. In this, I am aware that with an expected lifespan of 'three-score years and ten', they might all have reasonably expected to live to - and maybe beyond - 70 years of age_ :"

"#1 - USN Commander Louise Ford- DoB March 1958, single: reported UA Thursday June 2nd 1994: brunette, aged 36;"

She paused before continuing - this next victim (because of the link to Terri's husband Harm) was the most personal:

"#2 - USN Commander Alison Margaret Caroline Krennick; DoB 06-Jan-1960, single: reported UA on Monday June 3rd 1996: Blonde, aged 36;"

A single tear ran down, unheeded, from the corner of her eye.

"#3 - USN Commander Suzanne Winchester - DoB June 1961; divorced without children: reported UA Tuesday June 2nd 1998: brunette, aged 37";

"#4 - USN Commander Amanda Barcroft - DoB March 1963, single: reported UA on Friday June 2nd 2000; another blonde, aged 37".

" _I also lament four USAF Colonels were taken in '95, '97, '99, and '01, together with a recovering cancer victim (whom you cast aside like a used piece of tissue when she wouldn't fit your perverted needs) and six innocent civilian women (one of whom, at age 18, was only just entering womanhood), whom you took when you were starting out on your disgusting, cowardly endeavour_."

Faith was on a roll as she continued her victim impact statement.

" _And for what? The processes and the pharmaceutical compounds were ready and tested and working, so why take another victim? I believe that it is because you are so perverted and sub-human that you do not understand (or no longer understand) how the human race works - and the human race *must* be protected from you - forever!"_

As she prepared to wrap up her speech, she quietly slid off the "wedding" ring (she had been practicing how to slide it off in the run-up to the trial as she had lost weight whilst breast-feeding the twins, then lost further weight through her vigorous exercise regime). She had a little surprise for the convict.

Faith Coleman was icily calm as she delivered her final sentence to the "Motherhood Killer".

" _You mean nothing to me, you never have. You chose to slide this ring onto me when I was unconscious, in some perverted ritual in your sick little mind. Well, my friend, you should know this: today, fully conscious and with complete contempt for you - I am claiming a divorce_."

She threw the ring, arrow-straight, at his head. The suddenness of her action caught him off-guard (he had just averted his gaze to look at Juanita Ressler as Faith's speech continued) and the ring smacked into his eyelid before bouncing off and clattering to the courtroom floor. Faith's former school-day skills on the softball field had borne fruit in the "delivery" of the wedding ring back to the newly-convicted killer.

As he reached for his eye in pain, Faith transferred her class ring across to her left hand. A number of years would pass before a true wedding ring nestled there, when Faith joyously married the wonderful British widower who would court her, earn her trust, gain her confidence and eventually propose to her.

Faith nodded to the judge, turned away and walked out of the courtroom, head held high with nary a glance backwards. With a sentence of life for each of the 15 murdered women and each of the 28 unborn babies, no-one even bothered trying to work out which century would - notionally - see the release of the "Motherhood Killer". He would never see the light of day again.

 **Faith's time in the courtroom was over. It was time to move forward, return to JAG and concentrate on being a full-time lawyer - and also a young mom to her twins.**

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 **Chapter 18 - Part 33 (new inserted after "Saissa" feedback 22/11/18) - "Unhappy landings".**

 **Friday 27th August 2004, 11:43hrs**

 **Freeway Airport Aviation Flight School,**

 **3900 Church Rd, Bowie, MD 20721, USA**

With a sheer sense of joy, Mattie accelerated the single-engine trainer from Runway 036, heading northbound.

After thirteen flights and four days, she was confident of lifting off well before the red lights which signalled both the end of the runway and the crossing of highway 50.

At the start of the week, as she had embarked upon her birthday present from her family, Mattie Grace Coulter-Rabb had logged her first flight hours in her FAA log book.

The week of intensive flying was her reward for achieving an "A-" grade for her first year at the new school. The grade rating was reckoned to be an outstanding achievement, given everything which had befallen Mattie over the past year since before the first fateful meeting with Harm and Terri.

For the week of Mattie's flying lessons, Harm and Terri had split the "parental taxi" duties between them, delivering Mattie to and from the airfield via a 40-minute, 26-mile run around the 495 at the start and end of each day. The 52-mile round trips were just part of "being a parent".

Mattie had proven to be a diligent pupil, and was looking forward to the three flights scheduled for this fifth and final day of the course. This second flight of the day was her penultimate flight for the week and she was keen to bring everything together. Her instructor, Amelia (yes, she had said, her father was a fan of Amelia Earhart!) stayed quiet, nodding approvingly as her student got the aircraft airborne with a minimum of fuss.

"Very good Mattie, lovely and smooth just as we taught you. OK, head for the manoeuvring area. We'll get above the clouds and start with spin recovery."

As Mattie settled into the flight and kissed the top of a small fluffy cloud, all hell broke loose; the aircraft lurched upwards and pitched violently to port; the artificial horizon recorded a roll of more than 40 degrees.

Amelia called out "my aircraft" instantly and took control. Restoring straight and level flight, she sensed that the plane was yawing, ever so slightly, to starboard.

"We either have a control problem or something is hanging out on our starboard side and slowing us down."

Amelia made contact with the "tower" back at Freeway, declared a "PAN" emergency and reported the problem. As she did so, Mattie saw - out of the corner of her eye - a red-orange flash on the ground, almost directly below them. Amelia gently banked the plane to look down. Smoke was already rising from the ground.

"Tower, this is November 364; we are seeing a fire and smoke on the ground almost directly below us; have you lost contact with any other aircraft in this vicinity?" Amelia enquired.

Other pilots in the area began to call in - one reporting debris falling out of a cloud, with another reporting seeing a twin-engine Cessna "going in upside-down".

It was clear that there had been a collision. The cause would later be identified as a frighteningly-simple incident; a student flying VFR had flown up through the cloud and had wrapped their cockpit perfectly around the starboard landing gear of Mattie and Amelia's aircraft.

Mattie's starboard landing gear had punched through the cockpit roof, crushing and killing the female instructor and destroying the dashboard of the twin (along with the controls). The student pilot had (it was believed) been alive for the 58 seconds which passed between the collision and the moment when she landed, upside down, in a field near the Woodmore country club.

As the implications of the damage to their aircraft sank in, Amelia developed a plan with the tower at Freeway and began to plot a course back to the airfield. It became clear that, given the limited facilities at the airfield, a diversion to a larger airport would be sensible. Rapidly, the options narrowed down to Baltimore-Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport (BWI), some 15 miles NNE. BWI tower were rapidly contacted and the dialogue began. The international airport's main emergency services were placed on standby.

The aircraft was still (relatively) controllable, so on joining the circuit (and skirting around the main flightpaths used by the larger airliners) Amelia was able to bring the damaged trainer in for a low pass. A first overfly of the airfield enabled the tower crew to inspect the underside of Mattie's trainer. The starboard landing gear was turned through almost 90 degrees - landing the plane was going to be "interesting"!

Fortunately, BWI's emergency plan at that time required an annual exercise to "foam" a runway as a prelude to the simulated landing of an airliner with failed landing gear. This year, 2004, was the last year in which foaming a runway would be part of the airport's policy (the practice had been falling out of favour since the 1990s). This meant that the fire crews had one last chance to blow foam - and everyone wanted a part of the final exercise.

The exercise was rapidly initiated for the fire crews, with the ominous phrase " ** _this is not a drill_** " echoing over the speaker system in the Fire Station.

Circling to use up fuel, Mattie and Amelia ran through their planned actions as the moment of no return grew near; cinching the five-point harnesses tightly around their bodies, working out which ignition switches to turn off when just above the runway and " _who switches what off_ "; rehearsing the opening of doors and emergency window release - and offering up a quick prayer!

Looking down, Mattie and Amelia were very impressed with how quickly the grey tarmac and brown concrete of the nominated runway was turned white by the foam generators on the massive airport fire tenders. These rarely-used vehicles, which would reach 60MPH from a standing start before they got to the edge of the runway, laid down the foam within 12 minutes. Runway 33R now resembled a winter wonderland as the crippled trainer came in on its last pass, lined up for a landing.

Years later, a 29-year-old Mattie would still describe this as her " _first successful crash-landing_ " as she walked away from the wreckage of a FA-18 Hornet. Today, Amelia would refer to a " _successful Wheels-off landing_ "! Amelia had hesitated before committing to the landing, with the result that whilst the damaged landing wheel was cushioned by the foam until it sheared off, the plane slid off the end of the foam carpet and gently cartwheeled once.

This was the point at which Mattie suffered the first broken bones of her life - the radius and ulna in her lower left arm and the fibula and tibia in her right leg. Amelia suffered a broken right arm where her unrestrained arm was thrown off the control yoke and banged into the side of the cockpit during the cartwheel.

The two occupants of the light plane had a lucky escape. It could have been *so* much worse. The rescue crews rapidly reached the wrecked aircraft and gently extracted the two women. The ambulances were ready for the short run south-east to the University of Maryland Baltimore Washington Medical Centre Emergency Room.

Mattie's last words, before she passed out from the pain, were " _call my mom or dad_ ". Her bright orange backpack (which she always used when flying) was rapidly located and the emergency crew found her cell-phone and powered it on, looking for her "I.C.E." contact.

Fortunately (in one respect) Mattie hadn't password-protected her phone.

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 **Friday 27th August 2004, 12:55hrs Local**

 **Office of Cdr. Harmon Rabb, USN JAGC**

 **JAG HQ Falls Church VA**

Harm and Mac were working though case notes in his office when the call came in.

When he answered the phone, Mac noticed that his face turned white.

The incoming phone call from BWI was factual and impersonal. She's been involved in an aircraft crash; she is alive, she has some broken bones in her limbs but her core and movement are OK. She is being transferred to the Trauma Centre at University of Maryland Baltimore Washington Medical Centre ER.

Harm apologised to Mac, informed the General, obtained permission to head over to BWI and was out in the car park, all within 15 minutes. He telephoned Terri on the way and she undertook to collect the other two children - backing up her husband as always in the teamwork that was the Coulter-Rabb marriage.

The lunchtime drive along the 95 and onto the 295 was impeded by Friday lunchtime traffic. Harm didn't reach the ER until gone 13:30hrs.

 **Friday 27th August 2004, 13:34hrs Local**

 **University of Maryland Baltimore Washington Medical Centre Emergency Room**

 **301 Hospital Dr, Glen Burnie, MD 21061, USA**

The list of injuries (reassuringly described by the local trauma surgeon as " _slow-healing but totally survivable_ ") would keep Mattie in hospital for a couple of days.

For the record, Mattie's total achievement in consuming the ER resources ran to: **_ribs bruised, broken left arm, gashed forehead, sprained wrist, wrenched left knee and broken right leg_**.

Harm settled in for the afternoon after he had stepped out to update Terri by phone. He was obviously going to be home late for bath-time with the two younger children. Terri would explain to the youngsters and Harm knew that he could entrust her to avoid making the news too scary for them.

The plane crash had made the early-evening news. Looking at the mangled airframe on the TV monitor, Harm whistled - his girl had been lucky, as had her instructor.

It could all have been so much worse. Settling into the hard plastic chair outside Mattie's hospital room, Harm zipped up his jacket and huddled down to await developments.

He and Terri had already decided that Ellie and David would not be brought into the stressful and alien environment of the hospital. It was better that they would greet their injured "big sister" when she was brought home.

Harm began researching private ambulances and people-carriers. He needed to find one with enough space for Mattie to sit comfortably with her plastered leg and injured knee, resting her plastered arm for the journey home.

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 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 18 - "Trial of Faith" (part 32) and "Unhappy landings" (part 33).**

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	19. Faith arisen

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 19 - part 34)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed.

 **A/N:** Ch 19: Following the Faith Coleman kidnap court case and its conclusion, a good outcome is formulated (as often happens after an horrific event). My grateful thanks to "Syrae" as my helpful beta-reader for Ch 19. Happy New Year to all our readers.

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 **Phase Nineteen of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Faith arisen"**

 **A/N Publication date: 02-01-2019:** ...and now, on with Chapter Nineteen; the resolution of Faith Coleman's compensation for her torment. Faith builds a good legacy from the painful experiences

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 **Chapter 19 - Part 34 - "Faith arisen".**

 **Monday 30th August 2004, 10:36hrs**

 **Central Federal Courthouse, Washington DC**

At the start of the following week, the US court system turned to the matter of trying to compensate Faith Coleman and the other victims for the horrendous experience which the " _Motherhood Killer_ " had visited upon them.

The preparation and investigations for the civil lawsuit relating to Faith's compensation (and that of her deceased fellow victims - the women whom she had called her "sisters" during the criminal trial) had been running in parallel with the criminal trial. The guilty verdict in the criminal trial then enabled the US authorities to put their plan into action.

The various legal actions were swiftly brought to a conclusion once the criminal trial had concluded. Two days of evidence, one day of argument over precedents and a day of deliberation on amounts and future considerations enabled the judge to hand down a ruling on the Friday morning.

There was a large structured settlement for the victims. The US-based assets of the convicted "Motherhood Killer" were seized and used for the settlements. This included the share capital - the ownership - of his pharmaceutical firm.

Those amongst " _Faith's sisters_ " who were without surviving relatives saw a $1m contribution to victim support charities in the name of each victim.

Those with surviving parents and direct siblings received $500k for each family member.

Those victims who had been snatched from identified long-term partners (this accounted for very few victims, because the accused had stalked and selected his victims based upon the very fact that they were single women) triggered a $1million payment for their "significant other".

This provision benefitted the partner of "A4". He had not only supported her lovingly through all the trauma and recovery of her cancer diagnosis and treatment, but had also proposed marriage to her on the morning that she was snatched by "MK". On the steps of the courthouse after the judgement, he met a divorced reporter who was interested in the story of his lost love and how he was coping. This led to him collaborating with her on a "human interest" story about "A4", his wonderful Air Force lady. Four years later at Christmas 2008 they were married, in the presence of their two-year-old daughter as ring-bearer.

Another happy outcome of the "MK" case resulted. As a tribute to victim "A4", they always ensured that the characters "A4" were present in their automobile licence plates and their daughter was named with the Christian names of "A4" reversed in the interests of having a difference.

Money couldn't compensate him for the loss of his fiancée, but the meeting that day - on the courthouse steps - set him on the path to long-term happiness and widened the circle of friendship which resulted from the case. Faith and her children attended the wedding of "A4"'s partner and his lady journalist, maintaining the informal "MK club" support group for those affected by the crimes.

Once again, human beings strove to bring forth a positive outcome for the nightmare of the "MK" case and its aftermath.

Because Faith survived and had been used (unwillingly and helplessly) to "assist" the UNSub in his final testing AND had produced two healthy children, the courts were even more generous. She was granted a $10million lump-sum settlement plus a matched pair of $3million trust funds for Daniel Richard and Hope Alison. Their trust funds would be made available to them from their 18th birthdays, with 20% of the accumulated value of the fund released every two years, over the period of their 18th, 20th, 22nd, 24th and finally the remaining balance on their 26th birthdays.

The court files detailing their names were sealed and any father's (more accurately, the sperm donor's) rights were forever expunged, along with a blanket banning order forbidding naming or photographing Faith or her children in any format or on any medium, electronic, physical or yet to be invented.

The "JAG" TV mini-series was to be scripted on the basis of " _inspired by real-life events_ ".

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The US-FDA was not constituted to take control of a pharmaceutical company - but the US-SEC was able to "follow the money". Accordingly, the SEC investigated the US arm of the "MK's" company and imposed a further compensation package for Faith - a lump sum of $10million US dollars outright, plus an annual commission amounting to 1% of the US gross revenue for sales of the compounds which had been tested on her. The SEC rationale for taking this action was "corporate malfeasance" - and the imprisoned, convicted killer was in no position to argue.

The British court case was run on behalf of the US authorities through the embassy by a barristers' chambers in London. As an outcome, Faith was granted a further one percent of UK-accounted profits (in other words, the global revenues outside of the US territories) in perpetuity. The award was capable of being handed down to her children and their descendants.

Suddenly, Faith was a very rich Navy lawyer - but she still had her work ethic and she wanted to serve. The trauma of her kidnap and imprisonment had brought forth a new Faith Coleman. She had emerged from her shell and was determined to be a better human being.

Faith showed her true values by donating part of the one-off lump-sum payments to victim charities in the UK and the USA and then setting up subordinate trust funds to handle the incoming tidal wave of money in a tax-efficient manner. To assist, the SEC even allocated one of their top female tax lawyers to set up the deals, ensuring compliance with IRS statutes and regulations.

The US and UK authorities agreed an equitable arrangement for the perpetual treatment of tax implications for the transatlantic deals. Faith explained, to everyone who would listen, that as a practising lawyer she had to be squeaky clean. With the SEC and the British Government managing and supervising her affairs, she knew that she was destined to keep her tax affairs trouble-free. She also learned that pencils can be tax-deductible items!

Faith also undertook a far more personal and pertinent project, by way of tribute to the victims (whom she continued to refer to as " _my sisters_ ").

She paid to have the city block in Washington DC (where Alison and the other sisters had been discovered in their frozen tombs) refurbished and re-opened. The site was expanded, with a women's refuge and a museum dedicated to recording, explaining and interpreting the events which had concluded in that building.

The second year's tidal wave of income enabled Faith to buy - outright - the entire block from the Seattle property company. The property company in Seattle was only too glad to get the building, with its horrific history, off its books. They also garnered positive public reaction and respect by donating to a fund to assist in the refurbishment and the long-term funding of the memorial and the museum.

Good quality pictures of the 15 deceased victims (Faith had wisely chosen to stay anonymous - and alive!) were located and made up to large poster size, with a full-page biography of each victim alongside.

The military victims had all been photographed regularly through their careers, so their pictures were easy to select. What Harm found particularly poignant was the photograph of the first MK's victim - the 18-year-old British woman.

She had been pictured, in front of Winchester Cathedral back home in England, just one week before she had embarked upon her great American adventure - an adventure to a supposedly safe country which would, sadly, ultimately cost the young British woman her life within a short time of her arrival in the USA.

Harm and Terri were invited to a private viewing of the refurbished "freezer block". When he visited the refurbished space and first saw the portrait of Alison Krennick, Harm was certain that the photograph captured the essence of the woman. As he sank into a reverie, Terri let him wait for a while then nudged him back to reality.

He was very impressed with the selflessness which Faith Coleman displayed. She was also steadily improving even further, as a lawyer, under his mentoring and continuing tutelage in JAG. At the same time, working through her circle of friends and with support from counselling, she was growing as a human being and a mother.

By 2014, the "MK Museum" would appear in the top 20 of tourist and educational sites in DC. The legacy of brutality overcome by hope would not be forgotten.

 **Slowly, but surely and certainly, the scars on Faith Coleman's soul were healing.**

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 **Mon 6th September 2004 - 08:30hrs Local**

 **Office of Cdr Faith Coleman, USN JAGC**

 **JAG HQ Falls Church VA**

"Attention to orders."

Following the court case and verdict (during which time she had been kept on extended leave, bonding with her children and recovering from the horrendous experiences of her captivity), Faith made an important decision about her future.

She finally petitioned the US Navy JAG (and the SECNAV for whom she had previously worked) to return to her position to re-join JAG after an enforced gap of some two-and-a-half years.

The reinstatement was approved quickly and, on Monday 6th September 2004, Commander Faith Marie Coleman, USN JAGC, was to be fully re-commissioned into the US Navy from the Reserves List at the rank of full Commander.

This morning, she had awoken early and ensured that the nanny was fully-briefed for the day ahead. The Coleman children had been rehearsed and reassured repeatedly during the preceding week that " _Mommy is going back to the job that she loves but be sure that Mommy loves you totally and will be thinking of you_ ". At 18 months of age, her children were button-bright and a credit to the mother who had given them life and brought them up.

She had dressed carefully, with comfortable underwear beneath her Dress Whites (her uniform for that first day, because she had been instructed to attend a presentation in General Cresswell's office). She had even polished her white leather shoes the night before. With an impish smile, she had decided (as she was now slightly "rebellious" following the experience of her kidnap and the adventures which ensued) to don a pair of Wolfords "stay-up" thigh-high stockings. Whilst she would look, to the outside world, every inch the conformant naval officer, beneath the surface she was her own woman.

The time that she had spent chained-up and semi-broken had resulted in a better person.

This was the new Faith Coleman - alive and loving it!

She arrived at the VCP and identified herself. The Marine on duty saluted her, welcomed her back, directed her where to park and handed her a pre-authorised temporary pass which would get her into JAG HQ and up to the bull-pen where her replacement credentials merely awaited an up-to-date photograph of her.

He looked enviously at the car. Faith had spent a little money on herself, but she had already donated an annual sum equivalent to her Navy salary, which had enhanced the space and facilities of the crèche in JAG HQ (where Daniel and Hope would one day be sent as they grew to an appropriate age).

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Gordon Cresswell implemented the oath of office and welcomed Faith "back to full duty". Earlier, she had located her new office. As she walked towards it, a welcome party awaited her a few doors down and everyone clustered around to welcome their very own female Lazarus, risen from a West Virginia coalfield.

Her service record was credited in full for the time that she had been captured and during the trial. The time was credited as TAD to the Justice Department - the irony was not lost on those who were acquainted with the case! A lunchtime cake on the Monday was followed by an invitation to Catz 'n' Dogz club (the site of her original abduction) on the Friday evening. Faith was determined to lay the ghosts of her abduction.

Then Faith set about re-establishing her former near-anonymity and settled back into her JAG lawyer role - the only job that she had ever truly wanted with the patterns and order which exploited her former rigidly-ordered approach to life. She now knew, however, that there was more than just a rigid, dogmatic approach to a case- and she would become a better lawyer as a result.

Harm had undertaken to mentor her from her successful return in 2004 for as long as he was posted to JAG HQ (and even after that, by phone or email). This " _Rabb family care and mentoring package_ " included a " _first Friday of the month_ " dinner party at Nebraska Avenue for Faith and her children with Harm, Terri, Ellen and David (with Mattie joining in as her fostering-then-adoption process progressed). Harm and Terri always enjoyed greeting their godchildren.

The Medwick family was part of the circle of friends for the " _first Friday_ " gatherings - Tuna, Tara and their son joined in, filling the house with joy and laughter. The gathering on September 3rd had included some well-intentioned bits of " _back to work_ " briefings for Faith, with background and scuttlebutt on the people who now worked in JAG HQ. In almost three years, many careers had waxed and waned, with promotion boards periodically refreshing the faces on the staff.

Looking across at Faith, Terri could see that the woman had healed significantly.

A "fully-healed" Faith would (probably forever) be a " _work in progress_ ". However she was, on this day, more than ready, willing and able to re-join the human race in full.

Her counselling would continue into 2008, steadily tapering off as Faith grew in confidence: no human being could hope to recover instantly from the trauma and hell of the kidnap and imprisonment inflicted upon her. However, with care, love and support over time, anything was possible.

 **"UNSUb94" had lost his most important victim. Faith Coleman had proven the old proverb that: " _The best revenge is living well_ ".**

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 **Epilogue to Section 32 - "2016"**

The only slight dark spot on the horizon would come, some eleven years later on Christmas Day 2015, when the convicted **" _Motherhood Killer_ "** would be found, literally kicked to death, in the middle of the floor in the shower block of his federal penitentiary. The running showers had swiftly washed away any forensics. He had been transferred there after the first ten years of his sentence in a "supermax" prison. He had begun to earn a modicum of "trustee" status, which included one hour of unsupervised association with other prisoners. The FBI analysts had interviewed him mercilessly during the first five years of his imprisonment, and annually thereafter.

He was destined never to see his British homeland again.

After more than ten years in a single cell with little outside stimulus, the once-mighty mind (which had developed pharmaceutical products for the benefit of the world) had become seriously damaged. By this time, most people had forgotten about him, apart from his case-handlers in the FBI's ViCAP team.

Even so, on hearing of his murder Faith was unable to shed any tears for "the bastard"; but she bought a pair of diamond-tipped small pins (to fit in her neck-ties and her uniform neck-tabs) and a pair of diamond earrings (diamonds were her birthstone). Many years later, she would bequeath them in her will to Hope and Daniel, who at that time of updating her will were heading towards their 13th birthdays and were a pair of happy, well-balanced, much-loved pre-teen children of a calm, serene, settled and confident mother.

Faith had faced and beaten her worst nightmare and had defeated her final daemon - and she remained standing at the end of the battle.

Faith also finally acceded to invitations from her friends to go out on a "blind date" with a lovely British widower of similar age, who had also been left as a single parent with children when his wife was killed. The resulting union would bring a step-brother and two step-sisters for Hope and Daniel (Coleman). The death of the "MK" some years later merely merited a small footnote in the overall story of Faith Coleman's restored happiness. She simply couldn't care less.

But that is a story for another day.

 **The case of "UNSub94" (aka the " _Motherhood Killer_ ") was finally closed; and Faith Coleman had survived.**

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 **Friday 10th September 2004 - 16:45hrs Local**

 **Outside the office of Cdr Faith Coleman, USN JAGC**

 **Bullpen, JAG HQ Falls Church VA**

With a table laden with cakes and soft drinks positioned just outside Faith's new office, the General signalled the end of work 15 minutes early on this special Friday. Faith led the way, guiding her colleagues to her " _end of my first full week_ " party in the bar from where she had been kidnapped 31 months earlier.

All of Faith's friends - old and new - would be there, including the hospital teams from Bethesda.

Harriet opened the proceedings with the customary announcement: " _speech...by Faith_ ".

"Thank you one and all for this wonderful, supported, first week back where I know that I belong. I am aware that a number of you who are here tonight were involved in locating me, rescuing me and, most importantly, supporting me during my recovery. Even during the darkest nights when I was broken, I felt that more than one ' _someone_ ' was thinking of me - so thank you once more. Now, onwards to the party!"

Harm reminded everyone to be at the restaurant just ahead of 18:29hrs ready for the start of celebrations. He had arranged to chauffeur Faith to the event after she had changed into her party gear at Nebraska Avenue; he would also be collecting Terri from home, so that she could ride in the car and accompany Faith.

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 **Friday 10th September 2004 - 18:29hrs Local**

 **Catz 'n' Dogz Bar & Grill, Southside, Constitution Street, Georgetown, Washington DC**

Harm dropped Terri off and asked Faith to wait in the car for a minute whilst Terri finalised some details inside the bar. Excited, Faith was happy to comply whilst Terri, still wearing her outer coat, greeted all of the party-goers and then asked the females to line up ready to welcome the star guest of the evening.

" _OK people, once our guest of honour has arrived we shall be underway - you know the arrangement, ladies_."

Most of the "gang" had reached the restaurant a few minutes before Faith was called through into the bar. As she walked through the door, Faith was intercepted by Terri, who took her coat and then asked her to turn around and cover her eyes for a surprise.

Curiosity peeked, Faith complied, until she heard Carolyn Imes' voice close behind her:

 _"Ladies, reveal in 3-2-1..."_

Terri whispered in her ear: "OK Faith, turn around then then eyes open wide."

Faith turned around, to see several of her female JAG colleagues and a couple of the female doctors remove their outer coats to reveal matching outfits in line with Faith's last visit to the club - white blouses, leather skirts and killer heels. Cameras flashed to record the event. The proprietor of the club came forward with complimentary champagne, another cake and a big " ** _Welcome back, Faith Coleman_** " logo on his sweatshirt.

Faith was overjoyed by the wardrobe choices made by her supporters - it validated her decision to come back, re-creating the night when she had been taken, but exercising her right to dress as she chose.

"Wow ladies, you have given the former (and absent!) kidnapper a target-rich environment - thank you all for your support and for being here tonight. I am overjoyed to be back here to lay the ghost of Valentine's 2002 - and this time I fully intend to remember the end of the evening!"

Terri's final contribution as MC was a single announcement: " _OK people, let the party begin - food will be served at 19:00hrs._ "

Reaching to the bar, she handed Faith a glass of chilled white wine; a 1997 Robert Mondavi Stags Leap District Winery Sauvignon Blanc. The flavour was instantly familiar; Faith took great delight in taking two good swigs of what she now knew - with absolute certainty - was a perfectly safe drink.

The wine was just one of several parts of the evening's events which were deliberately designed to lay the ghost of her last visit to the bar on that fateful Valentine's night back in '02. She smiled appreciatively at Terri, who smiled and blew her a kiss.

She laughed joyously - her JAG sisterhood (and the Bethesda medical team) was with her to share in her celebration. Most of the "Faith clones" sat down quickly in their unaccustomed heels, although Carolyn Imes was seen dancing enthusiastically until closing time. Carolyn suffered for her enthusiasm in the following week!

Traci Manetti found a set of admiring eyes in the corner of the bar - over time, the US Marines colonel who owned the admiring eyes was destined to become a regular fixture in Tracy's life. However, that is a story for another day and another batch of cigars!

Eventually Harm and Terri left the hard-core of celebrants to finish the party and headed back to Nebraska Avenue - they each had a duty roster over the coming weekend in their JAG and FBI senior roles, as well as lining up and briefing a family lawyer ready for the next step in their family plan relating to Mattie Grace.

They had decided to use the services of AJ Chegwidden Esq, attorney-at-law in McLean VA. He was due to arrive at 09:00hrs the next morning, to be ready for the scheduled court case on Monday.

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 **Friday 10th September 2004, 21:26hrs EST**

 **Home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Terri Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Terri stood before the mirror on the wardrobe in their changing room, admiring her outfit at the end of the evening. As she stepped out of her shoes which finished off the " _Faith Coleman clone_ " outfit and unbuttoned her blouse, Terri turned and strode purposefully across to Harm who was sitting on the makeup chair admiring her leather-clad rump.

"I reckon that Faith laid her ghosts there tonight, Harm - don't you?"

"Oh yes, definitely - and her friends gave her great help and support with these matching costumes." Harm's hands were caressing Terri's leather-clad buttocks. Looking down, she could see the pulse-point in his neck throbbing.

"Come on, wife, I have a use for the lovely body hidden inside this outfit." His hand found its way to the zip at the rear as his other hand worked the leather of the waistband loose from around the retaining button.

Terri looked down into the eyes of her seated husband - she was glad of his seated position, because even in the "Faith clone" heels, she was shorter than her husband when standing. She shimmied her hips, feeling the skirt slide to the floor and displaying a bright red garter around her left thigh at the top of her stay-up stocking. She started to undo her blouse as she looked down into his eyes.

She smiled. "Sailor, I like the way you think!"

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 **Saturday 11th September 2004, 08:43hrs EST**

 **Home of Cdr Harmon Rabb and Dr Terri Coulter-Rabb,**

 **Kitchen, 33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

"What time is AJ due, Harm?"

"09:00hrs: he may be a retired admiral, but he's likely to still believe in ' _time on target_ ' so let's be ready in case he turns up early for coffee. Getting Tom Johnson out of the equation at this hearing is important after his last fiasco over Mattie's air crash injuries."

Harm playfully flicked Terri's rump with a tea towel. He obviously believed in living dangerously!

"Come on, wife, get the lead out and get moving."

She ruefully looked at him, rubbing the impact spot at the top of her thigh.

"Well, I could blame a randy sailor for keeping me up half the night before waking me early for breakfast!"

She leaned across the breakfast bar and kissed him as she closed the dishwasher door, looking around at a perfectly-clear kitchen which they had just policed.

"Hmm, didn't hear you complaining, Mrs Rabb."

Just then as Terri drew breath to respond to his touch, the doorbell rang - interrupting their domestic bliss.

Terri muted the television, leaving the 3rd anniversary ceremonies for "9/11" running in the background as the clock ticked around to 08:46am.

The next stage of Harm and Terri's adventure was about to begin - formally adopting Mattie Grace Coulter-Rabb after her accident some three weeks earlier.

Although Harm had regularly updated Tom Johnson on Mattie's progress, the attraction of the bottle had re-asserted its prominence in Tom's life.

 **It was time to cut their losses over Tom and to drive forward, making Mattie's formal adoption their priority.**

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 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 19 - "Faith arisen" (Part 34)**

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	20. Secrets from the past

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 20 - part 35)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed.

 **A/N:** Ch 20: A short but crucial chapter, published mid-month. As Harm and Terri move to adopt Mattie, historical facts emerge from an unexpected direction. My grateful thanks to "Syrae" as my helpful beta-reader for Ch 20 and her tenacity is helping me build and polish this angst-ridden chapter in my AU.

 **A/N:** I wish to acknowledge "The Road Not Taken" written by "Karen19" in 2009 (adapted with her permission once I discovered the similarity of her ideas to what I had already written for this part of my story).

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 **Phase Twenty of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Secrets from the past"**

 **A/N: Publication date: 19-01-2019:** ...and now, on with Chapter Twenty. Harm and Terri prepare to adopt Mattie, as historical documents and evidence emerge which may complicate (or facilitate) the process…

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 **Tuesday 30th November 2004, 20:15hrs EST**

 **The home of Cmdr. Harmon Rabb and Terri Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

"Hi, I'm calling for Harm?"

"Speaking."

"Hello Harm, this is Julia Swensen. So, how's tricks up in DC?"

"Pretty good Julia; with the court case completed and receding into memory, we are now looking at moving ahead with Mattie's adoption early next year. We just want to get a relaxed Christmas out of the way first. So how are you and Beth preparing for your Christmas?"

"Hmm, I think that Beth and I are planning a similar quiet Christmas, although her Mom might be joining us. I am so pleased for Beth that the walls are finally coming down with her family after years of isolation following her divorce and her coming out. Anyway, to the reason for my call. I may have found something to help with the adoption, Harm. Beth and I finally got around to clearing out the back bedroom at the Grace house and we have found an old shoebox with a label that says ' ** _Mattie_** ' on the lid. Now, I wonder if it might be important and, either way, I reckon that I need to get it across to you to hand to Mattie."

"Yes, please Julia; would it fit in the USPS or FedEx, or could we meet up some time?"

"Well Harm, the good news is that Beth and I will be in DC on Friday for a lunch, so we were thinking of either dropping by JAG HQ or calling by your home - or anywhere else in central DC if it would work."

"Julia, let's go with JAG HQ at Falls Church. I am due to be there on Friday, but if that changes I can leave arrangements with the Marine Guards at the Checkpoint. This would mean that your arrival will be expected and they will take the package from you for safe keeping. Expect them to also ask you for ID and check it over, but I will verify all of this by tomorrow and then may I call you back on this number?"

"Yes Harm, that would be fine and Falls Church would also minimise our diversion time on the journey up. Thanks, I'll await your call and meeting directions; goodbye, Harm."

"Bye, Julia."

Julia put the phone down and slid onto the couch alongside Beth. "Well darling, it looks like we will have a slight diversion on Friday on our way into DC."

Beth reached up a hand to caress her cheek. "So, how about a diversion this evening, darling?"

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 **Friday 3rd December 2004, 11:55hrs EST**

 **Office of Cmdr Harmon Rabb, jr, USN JAGC**

 **JAG HQ Falls Church VA**

"Commander Rabb, this is Sergeant Gomez at the CP: your two visitors have arrived and wish me to inform you that they are happy to just say 'hi' and get back on the road - as you alerted us earlier."

"OK, thank you, sergeant; in fact, I am on my way down now. Kindly ask the ladies to wait."

He strode quickly down the staircase and out to the CP. Harm barely recognised Beth O'Neill. The former Naval aviator and P-3 Orion pilot had lost a little weight but now sported a long ponytail - a flatteringly different hairstyle from her Navy days and one which was matched by Julia. Both women wore stylish black pant-suits and white blouses with black ties.

Harm pointed to them; "Let me guess; a 'Men in Black' theme for your lunch today?"

Beth nodded as she hugged him close. He reached out to include Julia in the hug.

"Yes, indeed. We're modelled on the Linda Fiorentino character - the ME who had a mind-wipe before she was recruited into the MiB ranks. The suits are also useful for formal meetings with prospective customers, although we usually jazz up the outfits with snazzier neck-ties or silk scarves somewhat."

"Well, welcome ladies to Falls Church; I can offer coffee if you have time?"

Beth smiled and raised a finger. "Harm, it is great to see you but, even with Julia driving, we are behind schedule; _ouch_!"

Beth's eyes widened and she stiffened slightly – because Julia had smacked her hand, open-handed, on Beth's rear in retaliation for the comment about her driving!

She turned an accusing look over her shoulder at Julia as she rubbed her buttock. Julia merely smiled angelically, before the two women exchanged loving glances once more.

Harm picked up the box (Gomez had confirmed the scans were clear and safe) and wished them well.

Returning to his office, Harm opened the old shoebox, which appeared to dated from the 1980s. Leafing through the loose papers in the box, which lay interleaved with some envelopes, he picked up a somewhat faded Polaroid of two people, closely entwined, with a beach in the background.

Just as in the Thomas Chaddock case a few years ago, something in the back of his mind suddenly rang a very familiar bell!

He looked closely - it couldn't be, surely!

Turning the picture over, he noticed the handwriting: " ** _Time with Harm. La Jolla, Christmas 1988 - the week that you were conceived._** "

Holy Crap! The implications began to sink in. The box also contained snippets of baby hair and the single bar of a Naval Lieutenant (j.g.)'s collar rank badge.

A dim memory, of giving a spare collar bar to his Christmas fling girlfriend in California half a lifetime ago, sprang into Harm's mind.

It couldn't be - could it? Fifteen or sixteen years would fit with Mattie's age…

With uncharacteristically trembling hands, he dialled Terri's number. Recognising the number, she answered the call in her usual enthusiastic manner.

"Hey Tomcat, missing me already?"

"Hi Terri; yes, missing you as always. Can you spare me two minutes to chat right now, please darling? I assume you're not elbow-deep in an autopsy?"

"Of course; I'm just on document reviews up in my office. What's up, Tomcat?"

"Mattie's adoption may suddenly have gotten a whole lot easier, but it also throws up something I haven't told you because I simply didn't know about it."

"Hmm, an intriguing mystery; what can I do now and what shall we do this evening?"

"How quickly can you carry out a DNA test for parentage matching? You'd have access to both a parent and potential child."

"Within 24 hours for sure; I also have access to a quicker service - remember that we've sadly made great strides since 9/11." Terri sounded intrigued. "Go on, Tomcat, what's the story?"

"Well, I would far rather tell you face to face, but - oh hell, I'm just gonna dive in."

Terri chuckled down the phone: "That is often the best way, Tomcat." She was glad that he had opened up more since his days in Mac's shadow. Her husband was, these days, far more expressive.

He took a deep breath.

"Back in the Christmas vacation of 1988, I was at home with my Mom and Frank in La Jolla. I met a lovely girl on the beach..."

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 **Friday 3rd December 2004, 18:15hrs EST**

 **The home of Cmdr Harmon Rabb and Terri Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

Harm had arrived home promptly, then sat on pins and needles until Terri returned, bringing with her the two DNA swab kits stowed in her briefcase. The shoebox from Blacksburg sat on the coffee table in the lounge, between them.

Harm took a deep breath. "Mattie, did your Mom ever say _anything_ to you to make you question your parentage?"

Mattie raised an inquiring eyebrow. "To question my… No. Why?" She suddenly looked intrigued and perplexed - as indeed she was entitled to look.

Another breath. "I need to tell you a story. You know that your mom married young and that she and your dad separated for a while, when his drinking got completely out of hand? It appears that she went to California and stayed with some friends from high school, before she decided to go back to him after the Christmas, to give her marriage another shot."

Terri listened intently, watching Mattie's face as the teenager suddenly sat up and nodded – beginning to understand where the story was going. Maybe there would be a happy ending after all; even if that meant discovering that Terri had not borne the first child of Harmon Rabb Jr.

Harm continued. "I was home in La Jolla on Christmas leave, that December of '88, and I met a girl for what would end up being a winter fling…" He sighed, shaking his head. "We were together for a total of ten days, but we loved a lifetime, and she vanished as suddenly as she appeared. I never heard from her again."

Mattie was still trying to put the pieces together and frowned. "Good for you, I guess. What does that have to do with me?"

Harm tilted her head to look at her. "Mattie, what's your birthday?"

"October 1st, 1989." Mattie paused, as the significance of that date sank in. Her frown deepened. "Harm, what is going on?"

He decided to take her through the evidence. "Julia and Beth brought a box they found in back room, while they were going through the house and tidying out. There's an envelope in there, labeled: _"Mattie, in case of emergency"._ Along with the letter is a picture I want you to look at first. There's a caption on the back."

Harm handed Mattie the picture across the table, then he sought out Terri's hand, who squeezed it reassuringly.

Mattie read the inscription out loud. " _Time with Harm, La Jolla, Christmas 1988 – the week you were conceived."_

She turned the picture over and smiled as she recognized the faces. "Handsome as ever, _Dad_." Then her eyes flew from the picture to Harm and back again. Her eyes grew wide as saucers and betrayed her confusion. "Is it true?"

Harm shrugged helplessly. "The timing fits. But I've asked Terri to bring two DNA kits home anyway, just to make sure."

Mattie expression hardened – her ginger colouring made her cheeks flush bright red. "Why wouldn't Mom tell me? She must've known Tom was not my father. Hell, the man was three time zones away from California. She _must've_ known it wasn't him. Why wouldn't she tell me?"

Her anger was starting to rise, and Harm thought better than to correct her language. He let his breath out, trying to form a rational answer to his angry daughter. "I'm not sure, honey. I think she'd decided to give it another shot with Tom, and bringing me into the mix was not a good idea. She knew I was off on another tour by the time she would've found out she was pregnant with you. It would've upended her entire life. So I guess she settled for what she had with Tom."

"Oh, yeah, because finding out Tom is not my real dad doesn't mean anything to me and has no consequences." The fifteen-year-old's sarcasm was raw and biting.

Mattie started pacing around the room. "She let me believe that… She made me _live_ with him… She _chose_ to stay with him even when she knew…"

Tears sprang in Mattie's eyes. "She _chose_ to stay with him, knowing that the smallest thing could have him fall off the wagon again, making us live in constant fear of… How _could_ she?"

Harm let go of Terri's hand and rose. "Sweetheart, I'm not sure why she thought it would be better this way. Had I known, I would've been there in a heartbeat, but I didn't – until I saw that photograph, I had rejoiced in meeting my wonderful Teresa and starting our family together – hey, remember even *she* kept me in the dark about her first pregnancy for five months! So I can only guess and speculate as to why your mom didn't tell you and why she decided to stay with Tom when the situation was the way it was. It doesn't mean – to any extent - she didn't love you wholeheartedly. Hell, she carried you for nine months and brought you up through childhood."

Mattie glared at him scornfully. "Right, because a mother that loves her child would lie to her about her father her whole life. Forgive me for not even _trying_ to believe that, Harm."

Knowing that trying to persuade her otherwise would be futile at the moment, Harm tried a different tactic. "I know it's hard, Mats. I'm sorry."

The teenager shrugged, wiping the angry tears from her face. "As you said, you didn't know. Which makes me even angrier, because she robbed _you_ of knowing me and watching your daughter grow up. Harm, I know how important family has always been for you – you reaffirm that every day with your children and I *love* seeing that. But she didn't even give you a chance to be my father!"

Harm glanced at Terri, then back at Mattie. "Hey, it's alright, Mattie."

"It's not alright!" Enraged, the teenager turned back to pacing. "She's not even here anymore! I can't ask her why she thought this was the best plan; she died, taking the secret to her grave, taking the coward's way out."

She stopped pacing and turned to Harm, transfixing him in her angry glare. "What if Julia and Beth hadn't found that shoebox? Was I supposed to live my entire life in the knowledge that Tom Johnson was my father, and all the consequences that come with that, while you were out there? What if we had never met? How is that fair on me? On us?"

She snorted derisively. "She was my mom - I was supposed to trust her! She wasn't supposed to lie to me, just because she thought it was easier, or because… Whatever reason she thought she had was good enough."

Tearful eyes looked at Harm. "How am I supposed to trust an adult now?" Mattie was winding herself up – and something was going to blow at some point. Realising and sensing the coming storm, Harm could only ensure that he was there when his daughter finally cracked.

Concerned, he held his arms wide, offering her a safe haven. "I'm not going anywhere, honey. I'm right here. And so is Terri. Both of us for life".

"But you should've been here from the beginning - you've missed out." Her voice trembled and more tears threatened. "You should've been the one who was there from the beginning, to…"

Carefully reaching out, Harm pulled her in a hug, resting his chin on top of her head. "It's alright, Mats. I'm here now, with my daughter. Shh…"

Her crying tore at Harm's heartstrings. He understood her reasons for being angry with her mother; and on a level he himself was angry with Margaret as well.

He could (just about) understand that once she'd decided to go back to Tom, there was little he could do about the past but, because of that decision, he too had missed the first fourteen years of Mattie's life - his first child - prior to the airfield meeting in October of '03.

His childless years had affected his relationships with a number of women (who wanted the idea of the naval aviator on their arm, but not the heavy shifting of pregnancy and diapers) before Terri had dragged/enticed him to bed in the April of '98. He realised that Terri's impregnation had come almost a decade after that Christmas in La Jolla.

He also knew that Mattie couldn't stay mad with her mother forever, but right now, and for a while, all her emotions would be raw and she needed time to process.

His daughter was going to need to vent a significant amount of frustrated anger. He simply had to be there for her - his daughter.

" _Oh boy, welcome to fatherhood, 16 years late_ " he thought to himself as he felt his daughter mould herself closer into his hug in her grief and anguish. He leaned down to nuzzle her mass of ginger curls.

His mind briefly turned to offering to arrange pizza, to distract the distraught teenager clinging to him.

 **And then, in the middle of the lounge of her adoptive home, in the arms of her true biological father, in full view of his wife who was ready to adopt her, love her unconditionally and bring her up with the two younger Coulter-Rabb siblings, Mattie went into meltdown.**

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 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 20 - "Secrets from the past"**

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 **Next Chapter - Phase 21 – "Adoption" (Part 36) and "London bound" (Part 37)**


	21. Adoption : London bound

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 21 - parts 36 and 37)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed.

 **A/N:** Ch 21: With the formal adoption of Mattie Grace, Harm and Terri face their next adventure - a pair of overseas postings (as often happens in military families) - so career considerations and new opportunities intrude into our story. My grateful thanks to "Syrae" as my helpful beta-reader for Ch 21.

 **A/N:** Allusion to canon: "Fair Winds & Following Seas (S10Ep22), first broadcast on 29-Apr-2005 - **the final-ever episode of JAG**. I have set the final part of this chapter a couple of months earlier than canon, to fit the timeline of upcoming events in London which I have sketched out for the upcoming final chapters (?23-25?) in my story. This chapter still happens in the same quarter-year of 2005 as in canon.

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 **Phase Twenty-one of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Adoption" and "London Bound"**

 **A/N Publication date: 28-01-2019:** ...and now, on with Chapter Twenty-one, **when we have our final ever parallel alignment with canon** (the last-ever episode at the end of JAG Season Ten, " _Fair Winds and Following Seas_ " - S10Ep22) before Harm and Terri head off to their new postings.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 21 - Part 36 - "Adoption"**

 **Saturday 4th December 2004, 18:10hrs EST**

 **The home of Cmdr. Harmon Rabb and Terri Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

A very fraught Friday night and a tearful Saturday had passed, chewing up adrenalin and tissues in equal measure. Eventually the main problems, tearful grievances and Mattie's burning sense of unfairness over her mother's secret had been talked out by dawn on the Saturday morning (which, in early December, was quite late).

Although all three people were exhausted, good manners prevailed. Mattie was calm - and very grateful for the support of Harm and Terri. Looking at his daughter, Harm realised that, whilst calm, Mattie would not be accepting anything for a long time!

Harm had stretched many of his finest lawyering skills to tease out and bring to the surface Mattie's grief after her meltdown in front of the family which loved her so much. The fact that her mother was dead meant that Mattie couldn't have that final discussion about the vexed question of "why?" – and eventually, the tearful teenager had accepted that unarguable fact of life. The Saturday had been spent in a far more positive and forward-looking mind-set, along with catching up on sleep periodically throughout the day.

After Terri had conducted the mouth swabs for DNA confirmation, Harm took Mattie's hands in his.

"Mattie, if (or I believe when) this is confirmed, then I am so sorry that your Mom never told me that she left California with you on board, darling. But whatever the outcome, I intend to adopt you as my daughter ASAP - be in no doubt of that. From today, I intend to be your father in *every* meaning of that word."

Mattie smiled; emotionally drained, she was almost through her process of calming down after her bonfire of anger at being kept in ignorance of her true parentage. Then she thought of a positive outcome - and smiled for the first time since yesterday. "Yeah, but if this DNA does prove our suspicions and our beliefs, the adoption process becomes a slam-dunk, doesn't it?"

"Yep, darling Mattie Rabb, I believe that it will."

"OK, so can we order pizza for tonight?"

Terri groaned and stood up. "You guys do that. I'll put tonight's meal ingredients back into the fridge and we'll cook that meal tomorrow night."

She was, in all honesty, simply glad that the shouting, screaming and general angst had subsided; Ellie and David had been remarkably well-behaved throughout Mattie's meltdown. They deserved a treat on the Sunday. Clearly Mattie's simmering resentment at her mother's decision to keep her in the dark was going to take a while to play out.

Terri toyed briefly with the idea of contacting one of her former fellow medical students, who had gone into private practice and was an expert on teenage behavioural problems.

She re-considered; this was not behavioural. Mattie's world had been upended and the entire family would have to gather round to support her as she processed and worked through the shock. "Time is a great healer" Terri sighed to herself. In this regard, her experience of her father's "guilt" was a perfect parallel example to discuss with Mattie when the moment arose. Terri sighed again: whenever the moment arose, more likely!

Eventually the decision was taken to visit Margaret's grave on the Sunday.

The Rabb household had dozed through the rest of the Saturday, had a family meal (the eventual agreed menu was pizza and Chinese!) at around 6PM on the Saturday evening and then everyone headed to bed for an early night. Despite the angst within the household, they achieved a good night's sleep.

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 **Sunday 5th December 2004, 13:00hrs EST**

 **Memorial Gardens of the New River Valley**

 **2551 N Main St, Blacksburg, VA 24060, USA**

Sunday had dawned bright and clear; chilly but pleasant for the four-hour drive south-west. The Rabb family had breakfasted early and were on the road by 08:30hrs to make the most of the light early-morning traffic on I-66 and I-81. A tired pair of parents prepared a huge picnic basket and then drove their three children down to Blacksburg, stopping at IHoP to cater to Mattie's desire for pancakes as an additional Sunday breakfast.

The next breakthrough would come at the graveside.

The Lexus swallowed the miles smoothly, with Mattie seated in between her two younger siblings in their safety seats. The early start meant that the 269-mile journey back wouldn't get the family home too late (although the likely daylight hours meant a return home in the dark was almost inevitable). The temperatures in the low 40s meant that the picnic idea was hastily reorganised into a "picnic in the car" at a suitable roadside rest area.

On arrival, the cemetery was bathed in weak sunlight. Harm parked up and then walked around to open the passenger door to help Mattie out.

Harm and Terri hung back, focussing on their young children who needed to run off some steam after the four-hour journey from DC, as their older child strode confidently across to her mother's headstone in the desolate winter wasteland that was the cemetery. She knelt down, resting her hand on the cold stone marker.

" _Hi Mom, it's Mattie – and I've found my Dad. I guess you know that, huh? I dunno why you couldn't trust me with the fact of who fathered me, but I guess you had your reasons for not telling me. But I really wish that you had trusted me, Mom. Harm is a really great guy and I wish I had known him for longer through my life so far. By way of thanks, I am so glad that - I guess - your spirit steered us together. And thanks for the paperwork in the old shoebox - as you know, the formal adoption should be very smooth now that all the facts of my parentage were known_.

She smiled weakly and looked at the headstone once more: " _But Mom, know that I'm still pissed at you and healing will take time."_

She sighed and looked over her shoulder, stepping back and reaching backwards for her father's hand. Harm was there instantly, stepping forward ready to support his daughter. He stood alongside her, at the headstone of the mother of his first child, marshalling his thoughts before he spoke, movingly and kindly, to Margaret's spirit.

The desolate cemetery gave Mattie some sense of peace in her rage, and allowed Harm to talk to his long-forgotten girlfriend – and the previously-unknown mother of his daughter. They made their peace.

On returning to the Lexus, Mattie had but one request.

"Dad? Please could you turn up the heat?"

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 **Monday 6th December 2004, 10:58hrs EST**

 **Office of Cmdr Harmon Rabb jr, USN JAGC**

 **JAG HQ Falls Church VA**

"Rabb."

"Good Morning Tomcat, you free for a minute?"

"Oh yeah, Tennessee Momma - what's the news?"

It had been a hard weekend, emotionally fraught and with lots of tears. This factual follow-up on Monday morning would be good for his sanity if nothing else.

"Well, Commander Rabb, your wife is calling to inform you that she has just confirmed that, tonight, she will be welcoming her husband's first biological daughter home to the newly-expanded Coulter-Rabb home."

"Oh wow, my daughter – who will obviously also become _your_ step-daughter genuinely and legally once we get the papers filed with the court, Tennessee Momma."

Terri's laughter echoed down the phone line from the FBI. "Well, we have both nature and nurture. She has an aviator father, was brought up by a mother who flew and in a family which ran an aviation business. No wonder the poor child loves flying!"

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 **Thursday 23rd December 2004, 10:38hrs EST**

 **Courthouse steps, Blacksburg, VA**

"Well darling; you are now confirmed by the Court, legally and beyond challenge, as my daughter. In turn, this means that you are ours for as long as any of us wish to be together as a real, legal, indestructible family. Welcome home fully, Mattie Grace Coulter-Rabb."

Having started the adoption process some 13 months earlier with a fostering/guardianship (before the bombshell of the information about the Christmas '88 La Jolla conception), Harm and Terri had completed the process to adopt Mattie on 23rd December 2004. They had therefore fully integrated their new eldest daughter into the family structure.

The fostering had originally been a great rehearsal for the final commitment of the adoption. However, Mattie was now indisputably "theirs" and they were "hers" officially and fully. There was no restriction or limit, because Terri had formally applied, in the same court submission, to adopt her husband's earlier biological child. This would make legacies and family care plans for US Naval families more straight-forward.

Mattie now had another date in her calendar to celebrate every year - her "family day", December 23rd. She hugged AJ and then shook the retired Admiral's hand in acknowledgement of the fine job that he had accomplished in preparing rigorously for the adoption hearings. The fact that the conception evidence had surfaced merely meant that he had carried, unused, a bomb-proof fall-back plan in his briefcase.

"Thanks, AJ." Harm added his gratitude to Mattie's greeting.

"It was a pleasure, Mister Client. The final rubber stamp will come through in three weeks' but that will just be by post," replied AJ Chegwidden. He nodded his head in a farewell acknowledgement to Terri as he headed out for the courthouse parking lot.

Encouraged by her "new" parents, Mattie had tried reaching out to Tom in advance of the hearing, but Tom had clearly chosen not to respond. Mattie sighed and shrugged her shoulders as she hugged her parents once more: her conscience was clear and she had done everything that she could to keep in touch.

If Tom had worked out the months, he would have realised that Mattie could not possibly have been his offspring. This would have made any "allocation of blame" rather tricky! Thinking about the circumstances, Terri wasn't certain how any father would have reacted in similar circumstances.

Terri was relaxed about Mattie's initial reaction to the failure to contact Tom. Harm and Terri had previously decided on a "contact strategy" for Tom Johnson, in case Mattie were to want to re-establish contact - or, in fairness, if Tom chose to re-surface (and dry out again).

They had discussed this at length, because Terri had spent nine years of her life hating (wrongly, as it had transpired) _her_ father for making her mother's life difficult. She now realised that there may, in Mattie's case, have been another reason for Tom's apparent hatred - her biological parentage.

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The newly-expanded Coulter-Rabb family returned from the adoption hearing to DC via the small town cemetery where Mattie's mom was buried.

Less than three weeks on from the previous visit, the plot seemed even more desolate than before. A few graves sported Christmas decorations, but most seemed abandoned and forgotten. It seemed appropriate to introduce new siblings, new parents and - especially – mothers, old and new, once more, this time with the happy news.

Mattie had calmed down somewhat during the intervening three weeks and now she had a question for her mom.

 _"Mom, I have worn myself out trying to find Tom; he just doesn't want to be found. If you can steer me, then let me know somehow, otherwise I'm abandoning the hunt. There is something else, far more important, that I want to talk through with you. I have a great family that I am joining - I kinda guess you had a hand in that, huh? But at some point - in the future - I'm gonna need a phrase to describe Teresa. Please help me to work out what I'm going to call 'Dad's wife', and the woman who has said 'yes' to adopting me into their family. My head hurts right now, with everything from the past couple of days and weeks, but I am gonna have to sort this out at some point. Thanks, Mom."_

Mattie left the cemetery with a stronger feeling of peace – realising that her Mom's spirit approved of the new arrangements. She had also been able to tell her mom that she now knew that she belonged with her natural father. Even better, he had already been in flight to adopt her before the true facts of her parentage had come to light.

The aftermath of the aircraft crash on 27th August was fading. After a six weeks in plaster, her broken arm had healed very well - her youthful bones had knitted completely. With ten weeks in plaster for her broken leg because of both broken bones, she had listened to her doctors, not stretching or stressing her bones and without over-reaching during her time in plaster. She had celebrated the release of her leg from its plaster prison in mid-November, but she accepted that she probably had three to four months of physical therapy to steadily rebuild her muscles. She didn't want any impediments to a US Navy career. She was glad that her injuries had been confined to broken bones - Mattie did not think that she could have coped with being bed-ridden or paralysed for an extended time.

After beginning physical therapy on her leg at the start of December, Mattie was on track to regain almost all of the muscle mass in her arm by early January, although her calf muscle was still slightly weaker and would remain so until the following summer; this would be resolved in time.

Swimming had been a major part of her therapy and she would shortly apply to re-join the school swimming team as a reserve; the softball team would not have Mattie playing with them again until the late summer, when she aimed to have rebuilt her muscle mass fully.

For now, Mattie could look forward to exercising "further and faster" as the winter of 2004-05 became the spring of 2005 and then turned into summer of 2005. She was confident that the '04 plane crash would not harm her eventual chances of getting into the Naval Academy at Annapolis.

Daddy's girl could still become a naval aviator. She knew that flying was in her blood, her DNA and her family.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 21 - Part 37 - "London bound"**

 **Monday 14th February 2005, 10:38hrs EST**

 **Office of Cmdr Harmon Rabb, jr, USN JAGC**

 **JAG HQ Falls Church VA**

"Commander Rabb, the General would like to see you at your convenience, please."

"OK Jenn, I am on my way."

As Harm walked into Cresswell's office, he picked up on the people gathered in the room. The SecNav was present, holding a blue presentation folder. A six-year-old Ellen, shepherding a 33-month-old David as he toddled around the room, was being guided by Terri who (quite unusually for 2005) was in her full USNR "Dress Blues" ceremonial uniform.

Harriet Sims-Roberts, dressed in civvies, held Bud's hand. Harm also vaguely recognised Terri's senior Director from the FBI, standing in the background.

Mattie, standing in the background in the smart blouse and pant-suit which she had worn for the adoption hearing before Christmas, stood ready to assist Terri with the junior Coulter-Rabbs. Mattie's ginger hair was, as usual for formal events, tied back and neatly groomed - Harm realised that, in that outfit and with that hairstyle, his daughter looked to have grown some four years! His fatherly pride swelled as he looked at his family, gathered in the office.

At the back of the room, a fully-uniformed Commander Faith Coleman stood, holding a pair of two-year-old twins who looked like they were dressed ready for a birthday party (which, of course, they were, being due to attend their own birthday party later that day!).

" **Attention to orders. Mr Rabb, please step forward."**

Cresswell's voice was full of warmth as he addressed the assembled group.

"As some of you may know, Harmon Rabb Jr has built up a formidable resumé in the service of this country. He has served as a pilot, lawyer, then pilot again before finally getting this ' _need for speed_ ' almost out of his system and returning once more to the bosom of the law. But we all grow up eventually."

He paused for the inevitable chuckles which rang out around the room. "This means that our career and our record (and the achievements recorded therein) are considered and reviewed regularly by various promotion panels."

He paused, smiling warmly and looking at Harm, then turned to the SecNav; "Madam Secretary, if you please."

The SecNav stepped forward and read from the blue folder in her hands: " _Following the recent selection board for O-6 promotions, Harmon David Rabb Jr is hereby promoted to the rank and dignity of Captain in the United States Navy. This promotion is effective Monday 28th February 2005 and frocking is authorised._ "

She turned to Harm: "Kindly raise your right hand and repeat after me."

After administering the oath of office, she turned to Terri: "Commander Coulter-Rabb, if you please?"

"With pleasure, Madam Secretary."

Terri deftly swung a suit-carrier out from behind one of the winged chairs in Creswell's office and presented Harm with his new Naval jacket, complete with gold wings, medal ribbons - and the four full rings of a Captain's rank below the mill-rindes of his JAG specialism.

She helped him to slide off his old jacket, helped him into the new jacket then kissed him, murmuring " _Well done; proud of you, my wonderful Tomcat - Happy Valentine's Day_ " into his ear as she pulled away, extracting his wallet from the old jacket for safe keeping.

"Wow, thank you everyone." Harm grinned as he looked expectantly at Cresswell. The General's expression hinted that there was more to come.

"Mr Rabb, it is time for you to spread your wings - this time eastwards across the Atlantic, although I shall be sorry to lose you. You will be appointed as the new Force Judge Advocate General to Europe, initially based at the London Embassy and relocating within the 18 months to Naples within the NATO command structure."

He turned to look across to Terri. "It is an accompanied posting for up to three years, so get planning for your new family homes in London, then Naples. Captain Rabb, the likely movement date will be around April 1st, so you need to begin your handover to Commander Coleman, who will be your successor here at JAG HQ. Good luck both of you."

Turning again to Terri, he nodded: "Doctor Coulter-Rabb, I am delighted to be able to also confirm the discussions which you have been having with your senior directors at the FBI. This means that you may now officially tell your husband!" Terri reached out a hand to Harm and smiled, slightly apologetically.

Understanding instantly, Harm raised Terri's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently.

"Need to know?" he murmured. Terri nodded.

Harm's gesture did not go unnoticed by Cresswell. He smiled and continued: "Doctor Coulter-Rabb, I shall now hand you over to your director." He nodded to Terri's Director. The switch in her reference to Terri's title, from "Commander" in connection with Harm's promotion to "Doctor" for the discussions on her own career, was a subtlety which she appreciated,

Marianne took over the narrative, smiling warmly at Terri as she corralled Ellie and David in front of her.

"Terri. This means that your home Agency is loaning you to the British Government for the duration of this posting for your husband. Her Majesty's Government are taking an even more-active role in fighting crime. The Brits are staffing up for their new piece of legislation called **The Serious Organized Crime and Police Act 2005** which will be passed by Parliament and expects to receive Royal Assent on 7 April 2005. They want to have their **Serious and Organised Crime Agency** up and running by April 1st 2006. There will be more transatlantic co-operation in this new organisation, as the terrorist menace continues to evolve."

She smiled: "This means that the FBI needs you to represent the USA - at the request and invitation of the Brits - boosting analysis and forensics collaboration and process developments. It's a London-based role, which should fit your domestic arrangements nicely for the next 18 months alongside your husband's posting to London. After that, I shall let your local FBI liaison Director brief you fully on a likely and probably follow-on posting into Interpol in Italy, but I sense that our FBI's loss is the Brits' and the Italians' gain for the next three years. Your status as a US Naval Reserve officer will continue - having such an excellent, qualified, military pathologist in Europe may be of use to the USE forces on occasions when we shall need to borrow you back from the Brits. So please pack your uniforms Commander Coulter-Rabb, because the USN may need to borrow you back occasionally!"

"Aye-aye, ma'am!"

It turned out that SOCA was being formed by a merger of the (British) National Crime Squad with the (British) National Criminal Intelligence Service. Terri anticipated the opportunity to have some fun with Gibbs at (American) NCIS over acronyms before her newly-renamed Agency was formally vested in London on April 1st 2006.

Gordon Cresswell turned back to the assembled group. "OK people; now the hard work starts. Captain Rabb, you may pick your staff for London. Commander Coleman, you need to work on the handover (however, I suspect that tomorrow after your kids' birthday party would be soon enough!). To your duties; dismissed and good luck."

Faith smiled demurely at the General's joke and then shepherded her children across to catch up with Mattie, Ellen and David. Terri rapidly volunteered to baby-sit the Coleman twins briefly, whilst Harm and Faith spent a quick five minutes arranging when they would start the handover.

Mattie was enchanted with Faith's children and, although she had been told the story, was happy for Faith that she had been able to produce two such delightfully behaved children despite the difficulty of the circumstances around their original conception and the conditions of captivity during most of her pregnancy. Faith was, clearly, entirely at ease as a working Mom. Cresswell had chosen well in selecting Faith to take over from Harm at Falls Church.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 14th February 2005, 18:07hrs EST**

 **The home of Cmdr Harmon Rabb and Terri Coulter-Rabb,**

 **33xx Nebraska Avenue NW, Forest Hills, Washington DC**

The family had returned _en-masse_ from the events in Falls Church JAG HQ.

Mattie was quite excited about continuing her education in the alternative setting of a school in England.

Once more, the Coulter-Rabb family were facing - together and united - another massive upheaval.

Finding suitable tenants, then renting out Nebraska Avenue and moving items to storage or to Great Britain would be tasks for later in February and March. Harm had quickly made contact with the rental arm of the realtor who had handled the purchase of Nebraska Avenue.

They quickly realised that their six-week countdown to April would rapidly run down as their working time expired.

That evening, the family members jotted tasks and requirements on a flip-chart in the den. They captured a list of everything that needed to be done, so that they could form some kind of project plan for the countdown and the move.

Part-way through, Mattie suddenly thought of a simple, yet totally fundamental, requirement for her transatlantic relocation.

 **"Hey Dad, it's a good job that I have my birth certificate from that old shoebox. How long does it take to get a passport?"**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 21 - "Adoption" (Part 36) and "London bound" (Part 37)**

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 **Next Chapter - Phase 22 - Part 37 becomes 38 "Across the Pond"**


	22. Over the Pond : A July Thursday morning

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 22- parts 38 and 39)**

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed.

 **A/N:** Ch 22: Harm and Terri head over to the UK, with Mattie Grace and the little ones. The summer of 2005 is looking good...

 **A/N:** Allusion to canon: *none* - Since Ch 21, our AU story is now beyond the end of season Ten - the end of "canon" JAG.

 **NB:** These four chapters (like the rest of this story) are a work of fiction, being based upon fictional characters and incorporating/inspired by some RL events.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 22 of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "Across the Pond" and "A July Thursday morning"**

 **A/N: Publication date 19-02-2019** : ...and now, on with Chapter 22. We are now extending our story beyond the end of the ten-season "JAG" canon, as Harm and Terri start their new postings in the UK and their children get used to Great Britain. Then one July morning, Terri sets off for work.

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 **Chapter 22 - Part 38 - "Across the Pond"**

 **Friday 1st April 2005, 08:38hrs BST**

 **A/N:** (UK summer time, started this year on Sunday 27th March; ran to 30th October then switched back to GMT over the winter)

 **Arrivals Hall, British Airways long haul, Terminal Four, Heathrow Airport, Hounslow, London W1H**

The Coulter-Rabb family had prepared for their overnight flight by all eating their evening meal together in the Executive Lounge in Dulles before boarding the plane for the later BA sleeper service from IAD across to London.

The Friday morning arrival of the overnight flight from Washington into Heathrow found the Coulter-Rabb family exhibiting the entre gamut of attitudes and alertness.

After take-off, it was a simple case of reclining the seat flat, pulling up the blanket and donning the eyeshades and earplugs, then zoning out. Ellie had followed her parents' example and was thus quite bright and alert for her first view of the country which was going to be her home for the coming years. David just yawned whilst Mattie wished for a strong coffee!

The family had taken the central block of four seats in the centre of the plane, exploiting the British Airways seating arrangement in Business Class, whereby the seats in each pair of seats face alternately forwards and rearwards. Harm and Terri had reclined their Business Class seats flat (then slept with Ellie in the seat between them). With David on the aisle and Mattie across the aisle from him and closer to the window, then Terri separating David from Ellie and then Harm on the other aisle side, those family members who wanted to sleep had been able to do so. Even so, it had been a short night for sleeping.

Mattie had stayed awake. She had volunteered to act as an unpaid baby-sitter to control David's hyperactive enjoyment of being in the air (in fairness, he had kept the noise down so that other passengers were not disturbed). Ellie had behaved like the well-mannered young lady that her father expected her to become.

Harm and Terri had not been provided with diplomatic status for his posting to London, so five dark blue US passports were ready for inspection at the UK Border. On clearing UK Passport control then retrieving their bags and cases before clearing UK Customs, the family grabbed a SkyCap porter then headed for the Sheraton Hotel which was part of the Heathrow T4 complex.

This short walk to the hotel avoided the challenges of fighting for taxis or trains when tired after an overnight transatlantic flight.

Harm had planned the trip after Frank's advice - the senior Chrysler VP had accumulated years of experience (and lots of airmiles) in learning the joys of transatlantic travel. " _Face London on the Saturday morning, after a good night's sleep on UK time, son,_ " he had advised Harm.

Harm had arranged with his predecessor at the US Embassy that transport would be provided, on the Saturday morning, to move the family into a central London hotel which would become their base until the rental house was found and secured. So everyone had a free relaxing Friday ahead of them

In fact, on the Friday afternoon after a nap, the entire family decided to start exploring London. As part of the adventure, they travelled into London on the Piccadilly Line, the London Underground Line which extends eastwards from Heathrow, burrowing deep under the city centre as it heads towards its ultimate destination at Cockfosters in North London. This brought home to Harm the small diameter of the tunnels (the headroom of the carriage caused him to crouch and he rapidly sought out a seat!). Despite this minor inconvenience Harm and Terri, as experienced travellers, enjoyed the opportunity to start learning about the layout of their new home city, counting off the stations as the Underground train rattled onwards.

They eventually broke the journey at Leicester Square, where they travelled up to the surface and started to explore the area around the underground station. They drifted north to Covent Garden and the tourist attractions in the old market there, before Terri (egged on by Mattie) discovered the clothing and shoe shops in Long Acre. The ladies agreed that they would be back, at a later date, to explore and spend! It was clear that, in London shops, everyone spoke the international language of "VISA", "Mastercard" and "Amex". The Rabb ladies would continue their hunt for "comfortable shoes" on the eastern side of the Atlantic.

Later, they all returned on the Piccadilly Line to the Heathrow hotel for an early evening meal and a comfortable night of sleep in beds that were not travelling at Mach 0.85 at 39,000 feet above the Atlantic.

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 **Saturday 2nd April 2005, 09:55hrs BST**

 **Heathrow Terminal Four Hotel, Heathrow Airport, Hounslow, London W1H**

An Embassy minibus collected the Coulter-Rabb family and delivered them, with all their luggage, to a city-centre hotel which would be their base for the next fortnight, until a rental house could be secured.

The hotel accommodation consisted of a mini-suite with two en-suite bedrooms, a living area and a kitchenette with a small dining table. The suite provided enough space for the five members of the Coulter-Rabb family to survive for a fortnight without getting on each others' nerves. The top-floor view across the rooftops of London was inspiring on a clear day.

Harm would be starting work on the Monday at the Embassy in Grosvenor Square, whilst Terri already knew that the British accreditation process would take the whole of her first week. Her UK host had been apologetic but explained that this was " _just the way it is_ " for " _non-UK_ " citizens joining any branch of the UK Government. This applied even to those who were clearly natives of the other country in the UK-US "Special Relationship", whatever their US clearance level.

Terri had nodded wearily and packed another couple of paperbacks to read in case she had to kill time.

The Saturday afternoon saw an open-top bus tour around the main tourist sites in London, hopping on and off to explore museums and sites of interest. This tour (together with a good street map) enabled Harm, Terri and Mattie to build a good mental picture of the layout of London so that they could get around and, more importantly, so that Mattie could guide Ellie and David.

Harm and Terri were comfortable in the knowledge that David would stay close to Mattie - it was clear that the teenage Coulter-Rabb had a young admirer - her little brother!

A Saturday evening meal in the hotel restaurant enabled everyone to build wish-lists and shopping lists for the coming week. Terri had the Wednesday booked off to start exploring schools and the like for Mattie and Ellie (she had rationalised that, by that time, she and Harm would have started to pick up recommendations from colleagues). David (who would turn three in early June) would be going to a crèche at the location where Terri would be based.

 **Sunday 3rd April 2005, 10:45hrs BST**

 **London Hotel, Marylebone, London**

A London taxi transported the family up to Regents Park, where they spent several hours visiting the London Zoo with its varied collection of animals, followed by a visit to Madame Tussaud's waxworks exhibition with its representations of various famous people.

On the way back, the Coulter-Rabb family enjoyed a boat tour along the Thames, out eastwards to the Thames Barrier at Woolwich before returning to Westminster, where they landed on the Embankment Pier and walked up to street level.

As they reached street level the sight of the "Big Ben" tower across the street (officially named "St Stephen's Tower" but affectionately nicknamed after the name of the largest bell which it contained) caused both David and Mattie to gasp at the view.

The Embassy would welcome the family on the Monday morning, to start the on-boarding process.

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 **Monday 4th April 2005, 09:55hrs BST**

 **London Hotel, Marylebone, London**

The Embassy had arranged for a car and driver to collect Harm during his first two weeks in post, to ensure that he arrived safely and on time at the Embassy; this was SOP for in-processing international assignees, after which time they usually had oriented themselves and had worked out the best routes to work.

 **But Harm's posting began this morning, so he was "up and out" with plenty of time to spare.**

Fortunately, Terri's took a London Black cab on the first morning. Her taxi driver knew exactly where Terri needed to be dropped and she was on time for the first "interrogation" - as she affectionately termed the British vetting process. The serious and Organised Crime Agency (SOCA) were serious about security.

One good outcome for her first contact with British officialdom was to learn about the London "Oyster Card". Like the Chicago CTA transit pass and the Washington DC WMATA's "SmarTrip" cards, OYSTER provides contactless travel authorisations on London buses, underground trains, trams and river boats.

Walking to the Underground station at Pimlico, Terri purchased three OYSTER cards (one for her, one for Harm and one for 17-year-old Mattie) during her lunchbreak and stored ten pounds onto each card to top up the accounts. She was keen to explore the routes between the SOCA HQ and her temporary hotel home.

Terri had dived headlong into her exploration of the bus network and the "Tube" network - the affectionate term which Londoners had adopted over the decades for the "London Underground" railway system. The nickname spoke to the egalitarian, " _everyone queues to get on_ ", often-crowded system which had begun in Victorian times and now linked all the parts of London (including some lines which travelled far out into the hinterland well beyond the city centre).

That evening, at the end of the first day of his new duty, Harm made it back to the hotel by 18:45hrs; Terri and Mattie had fed David and Ellie earlier (the experience had emphasised the need to either transfer to a self-contained suite in the hotel or to get a rattle on with securing a rented house) and then the three older members of the Coulter-Rabb family arranged room service for their evening meals. The coming week would see them begin to explore outside the hotel, for food and also potential areas where they might live.

Sitting in the lounge area, Mattie reached out to Harm and Terri as they sat across from her.

"Guys, I've been thinking about something that I want to run by you – and Terri in particular."

"Go ahead, Mats."

"My mother is dead, you Harm are my biological father, but I feel so settled here with Terri to support me despite still feeling pissed at my biological mom. You had already made a loving, welcoming home for me back in DC and this temporary hotel home in London feels just fine. But something I heard in the street the other day when we were touring London has got me thinking and I had also been thinking about my mom."

"OK." Harm and Terri looked at each other in matching bewilderment.

"Well, at the risk of appearing very British, how would you guys feel if I started using the phrase 'Mother' when I address you?" Mattie looked to Terri for a decision.

Instinctively, both parents leaned across to hug their teenaged daughter.

Terri was just *so* proud of her adopted daughter; tears began to well up – the tears of a mother's pride, naturally. "Oh Mattie, that sounds a bit formal (heck, I'm not sure if the Brits still use that formal term), but if that is your wish, then will do just fine".

Terri resisted the temptation to give in to her instinctive response: that the new term of endearment had just added about ten years to her perceived age!

"Mother" it would be.

Until Mattie changed her mind, of course!

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 **Monday 18th April 2005, 09:55hrs BST**

 **Rented UK home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

On the first working day since moving into their rented home, Harm and Terri travelled in together to the Embassy, before Terri hopped onto a bus to head across to the meeting at New Scotland Yard. She was briefing two of the senior Metropolitan Police forensic specialists on progress in establishing the new labs in SOCA in Pimlico. Successful methods for interworking with the 43 separate UK police forces would be crucial to the success of SOCA, which was positioned to be additive to the local police forces - there was a *very* clear directive to " _avoid even the impression of any 'turf wars' in the new working relationships_ ".

At lunchtime, Terri was taken to the little sandwich shop in Dacre Street at the back of New Scotland Yard. Walking back towards Victoria Street, she paused at the window of the bicycle shop on the corner of Dean Farrar Street. The cute (British-made) Brompton folding bike caught her attention.

Being able to fold up a bike and carry it into a train, a bus, a taxi - or a meeting - really caught her imagination. The prices, ranging from around £450 to £800 (Terri made the quick conversion back into US dollars), caused a sharp intake of breath. Nevertheless, after 15 minutes browsing the "options list" and looking at which features were already installed on a few of the "stock" bikes in the shop, Terri walked out of the shop with a clear idea of what she wanted and the desire to run the idea past Harm that evening. She had also spotted a protective helmet which wouldn't clash with her hairstyle.

Cycling regularly would definitely help maintain her fitness, she reasoned. Some time after giving birth to David, she still had some parts of her body which she regarded as being "in need of improvement". Exercise and walking or cycling (or a combination of all three) would help.

She was aware that many more Londoners than Americans tended to walk around their city, hopping onto public transport as required. The narrow London streets (a legacy of the city's millennium-plus history) simply were not designed for massive fleets of motor cars. Even the continental-style Mercedes "Bendi-buses" (whilst delivering excellent capacity and ideal for carrying disabled passengers, with wide flat floors and three doors down the length of the vehicles) struggled to navigate a city laid out on the bones of a medieval market city.

That evening, once Harm had returned from the Embassy, the Coulter-Rabb family settled down to an evening meal and to catch up on the day.

Terri looked at Mattie, with an eyebrow raised to invite her eldest daughter to start the conversations.

Mattie, with a smile, began her school day report with the immortal phrase: "Well, Mom…."

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 **Monday 20th June 2005, 09:55hrs BST**

 **Office of Capt Harmon Rabb, jr, USN JAGC**

 **Embassy of the United States of America to the Court of St James**

 **30 Grosvenor Square, London W1A 2LQ**

The FJAG for Europe stepped out of his office and rode the elevator down to the lobby. His guest from America was due at 10:00hrs and he suspected that she would - as always - be arriving bang on time if it were humanly possible. She had departed Falls Church HQ on schedule the evening before, heading to Dulles for her overnight trans-Atlantic flight into London's Heathrow Airport.

His time-keeping (or planning!) was perfect, so that Harm had been present in the embassy lobby for about three minutes when his special guest arrived.

The statuesque dark-haired woman broke into a smile as she saw him and she advanced, arms outstretched, ready to greet her friend.

Commander Faith Coleman (USN JAGC) looked immaculate in her tailored pant-suit. The airline's limousine service driver walked behind her, bringing in her suitcases and suit-carrier, which contained her uniform, to the checkpoint desk. Embassy SOP was for all staff to wear civilian dress outside the building, lowering the profile of potential targets on the streets of London.

Harm subsequently discovered that Faith had paid her own way, flying First Class with British Airways, rather than endure a 20-hour survival test including the belly of a USAF C-17 into RAF Mildenhall in Suffolk, some 81 miles north of Central London. She had justified this by arranging to meet her British-based legal team (managing the non-USA aspects of the "MK" legacy award to her and her children) during her visit to the UK.

She smiled warmly at Harm and he looked at her critically, assessing her appearance, for a moment. In her white blouse, fitted charcoal suit and glistening shoes, she could have stepped out of some sci-fi "cleaning pod" at the door of the embassy.

A brief thought flashed through Harm's mind, going back to the "pre-kidnap" version of Faith: " _the Vulcan looks human_ ".

"Hi Faith - looking immaculate as always".

"And back at ya, Rabb! Hi Harm; well, I'm certainly better than when your wife recovered me three years ago! The Summer Whites and Dress Whites are in my suit-carriers if needed."

The two friends chatted as they headed towards the elevator, an Embassy receptionist having relieved the airline chauffeur of Faith's suit carriers.

They settled into the conference room, as Faith politely directed the receptionist to deposit her items in the corner. She had earlier dismissed the airline chauffeur with a gloriously radiant smile and a cheerful enjoinder to " _find a cafeteria for your lunch hour please_ " as she handed him a £20 note.

"Yes ma'am".

"It is good to see you - is everyone settled in at your new family home and how is Terri getting on with the Brits?"

"Yes, we have settled into a lovely home across in Bryanston Square. The Embassy provided transport for me in the beginning but now I normally walk. Terri is exploring London Transport on her journey to work at the new base and she has bought a bike. We are settled, happy and we have a list of experiences and "lessons learned" about overseas assignments ready for when we move across to Naples next year. How are Daniel and Hope?"

Watching the formerly closed-off, pinched-face JAG officer, Harm was still amazed by her transformation. He had already gathered - from many positive comments from his old contacts back in the USA - that " _the Vulcan Princess had melted_ ". As an unwritten informal policy, no-one in JAG HQ had ever used the phrase "Ice Queen" following the tragedy of Loren Singer's death back in early 2003.

"Yes, they are fine; little Hope is definitely leading Daniel into trouble occasionally."

"Well Faith, I find that hard to believe - surely she would be ' _little miss prim and proper_ ' for everyone?"

Faith threw back her head and laughed joyously - a sound which Harm had never heard from her before.

"Yes, I can appreciate that impression (or expectation) of my daughter but when Daniel gets caught out, he has such big innocent eyes that it is hard to blame him!"

"So, they will both break hearts after puberty, I assume?"

Harm smiled his trademark grin, re-assuring Faith (if proof were needed) that he was joking. She smiled broadly in return.

Faith Coleman had, without doubt, joined the human race.

They continued their conversation and were almost fully caught up over coffee before the other meeting participants began to drift in around 10:25hrs.

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 **Monday 20th June 2005, 10:29hrs BST**

 **The JAG Corps conference room,**

 **Embassy of the United States of America to the Court of St James**

 **30 Grosvenor Square, London W1A 2LQ**

The FJAG for Europe looked down his conference table at the Friday morning status update meeting. Harm was pleased with his team - both the long-standing senior attorneys and also the newly-minted pair who had recently transferred in after successful graduation from NJS. Following their successful exit from NJS, their mentoring programme included a regular video-conference with their mentor back in Falls Church HQ, but today their mentor was here in person.

Faith had transformed during her captivity and the extensive treatment, counselling and coaching which had followed her rescue. Her major financial security had also, obviously, improved her confidence.

Harm noted that she was warm, encouraging and complimentary about her protégés and their progress.

Both of the new staff members appeared to adore her. Clearly, she had maintained a close mentoring relationship with them as they worked through NJS under her watchful eye. Harm had taken the precaution of booking a "visiting officer" office for the afternoon, so that Faith would have a quiet space to interact and work with her mentorees after lunch.

By lunchtime, everyone had a good feeling; Harm's team, barely six weeks on from his arrival, was humming smoothly. Faith looked up as he knocked and put his head around the door. Her jacket was off and her sleeves were rolled up as she worked with Todd and Anita. She left them working and quickly eased out of the doorway to speak quietly with Harm as he had a question for her.

"Faith; we hadn't fixed anything for this evening, in order to give you the option to just head across the Square to the Marriott, but you are very welcome to join us all for dinner at home."

"Harm, that would be lovely; I want to catch up with your Teresa anyway. Thanks for the invitation and please remind me of the address."

"Well Faith, I've already taken the liberty of booking an embassy car - the driver could run both of us to the house (via the Marriott to drop your cases) and I shall sort out transportation for you back to the Marriott later."

Faith linked her arms with Harm's and smiled warmly at him. He realised that, in her relaxed poise, there was no sign of the former " _joints at 90-degrees_ " rumoured stiff pose of the "old" robotic Faith Coleman.

"Mister Rabb, that sounds like a plan; OK, I am all yours at the end of today; bring it on, sailor."

"We'll head off at 17:50hrs; I shall come and find you in this office around 17:45, Faith. Then, we can truly say welcome to London."

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 **Monday 20th June 2005, 18:16hrs BST**

 **Rented UK home of Capt. Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

The Coulter-Rabb family were gathered to greet their American visitor.

Faith enjoyed the evening, the relaxed conversation - and a few glasses of the Robert Mondavi Cabernet Sauvignon which she had brought with her.

It was Terri's refusal of her customary glass of wine which caused Faith to look across at Terri with raised eyebrows.

Terri merely placed a hand on the waist-band of her skirt and smiled. She then raised a silencing finger to her lips and Faith realised the significance.

Terri wasn't yet ready to go public with the news, but Faith was definitely part of the Coulter-Rabb "inner circle" and therefore qualified for "early notifications" of any gossip.

 **The news of the impending third Coulter-Rabb child was definitely in the category of "gossip".**

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 **Wednesday 6th July 2005, 18:10hrs BST**

 **Rented UK home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

The Coulter-Rabb family were gathered on the settee in the lounge, watching reports of the UK's winning bid to host the 2012 Olympic Games. The International Olympic Committee's selection process had whittled the bidding host cities down to two - then London got the votes needed to beat the bid from Paris. The French delegation looked sullen and surprised; it was a sad reflection of the fact that in any competition, someone had to win, meaning that someone else has to lose.

" _Remember this kids, this is part of the history of Great Britain that you are witnessing here today_ ," Harm told his children.

The celebrations ran on into the night; the United Kingdom looked forward to welcoming the world to the Olympic Park at Stratford in the east London, just seven years ahead.

 **But the following day would bring unexpected heartache and tragedy to the city.**

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 **Chapter 22 - Part 39 - "A July Thursday morning"**

 **A/N - historical note about London on Thursday 7th July 2005.**

The morning of Thursday 7 July 2005 was meant to be a happy one for London. The day before, there were celebrations as the city was named the host of the 2012 Olympic Games. London was at its best, with flags flying and happy people - from all countries, continents and nationalities - mingling in the streets, bars, cafes and pubs.

However, the mood in the capital changed just before 9am that morning, when four young suicide bombers attacked the public transport network, killing many passengers and injuring hundreds more. Fifty-two people, all UK residents but of 18 different nationalities, were murdered and more than 780 were injured in the attacks, making it Great Britain's deadliest terrorist incident since the 1988 bombing of Pan Am Flight 103 near Lockerbie, Scotland, as well as the country's first Islamist suicide attack.

This is what happened that morning:

 **04:00** Mohammad Sidique Khan, 30, Shehzad Tanweer, 22, and Hasib Hussain, 18, leave their rented flat in Leeds and drive to Luton.

 **05:05** Jermaine Lindsay, 19, the fourth bomber, arrives at Luton station, and sleeps in his car until his accomplices arrive.

 **06:51** The four men are reunited in the car park of Luton railway station, and are seen taking rucksacks from the boots ("trunks") of their cars, each containing between two-to-five kilograms (four-to-eleven pounds) of explosives. They boarded London-bound trains from Luton station.

 **08:49** three bombs were detonated on board London Underground trains within 50 seconds of each other: in the wide sub-surface tunnels between Liverpool Street and Aldgate on the Circle Line; in the wide sub-surface tunnels just outside Edgeware Road on the Circle Line; on the Piccadilly line in the deep, narrow tunnels between Kings Cross and Russell Square.

 **09:47** Almost one hour after the three attacks on the London Underground, a fourth bomb was detonated on the top deck of a number 30 double-decker bus. The explosion in Tavistock Square ripped off the roof and destroyed the rear portion of the bus. The blast took place near BMA House, the headquarters of the British Medical Association, on Upper Woburn Place. By sheer good fortune, a medical conference was taking place there on that day, with the fortuitous result that 18 doctors, along with medical staff in or near that building, were able to provide immediate emergency assistance to the wounded and comfort to the dying.

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 **Thursday 7th July 2005, 08:31hrs BST**

 **Rented UK home of Capt Harmon Rabb, jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

The location of the Rabb rental family home had worked well for everyone. Harm had used the pilot's "clock" approach in selecting (with Terri) their London rental home. The United States Embassy in Grosvenor Square is located within a "circle" bounded by Marble Arch (at 10.o'clock), Bond Street (at 12.o'clock) and Green Park (at 4.o'clock). Hyde Park lies to the west.

Terri was initially briefed and cleared (by an initial, low-level vetting) at New Scotland Yard after registering with the US Embassy in St James back in April. By the start of May, she was fully-vetted and had the run of the building. Her new base for SOCA was being set up in Pimlico (just across the river Thames from the iconic MI6 headquarters building).

Harm usually walked to the Embassy each day (especially during the glorious summer days) and back, whilst Terri was very happy to make use of London's public transport system. They both revelled in the anonymity which walking in civilian clothing brought them.

Thursday had dawned bright and clear; the city felt happy and optimistic. The previous evening, London had rejoiced at the news that the city had been selected by the IOC as the host city for the 2012 Olympic Games, seven years hence. This had boosted London's self-esteem and the whole of the UK was pleased with the outcome, which had involved defeating the bid from the city of Paris. " _Getting one over on the French_ " was an affectionate part of the close (and warm) relationship which existed between the UK and France; an international relationship which had been formalised in the early 20th century as the " _entente cordiale_ ".

For a crowded capital city, whose street layouts stemmed from medieval time (apart from some town planning carried out by the German Luftwaffe in the early 1940s) London was heavily reliant on public transport to move its 7.5million citizens and the myriad of workers who flooded in from the commuter towns every working day.

Without the Tube (and an equally well-connected network of buses), London would simply grind to a halt. The latest Tube line (the "Jubilee" line) had opened in early 2000 and the next new railway lines under London (bringing the Channel Tunnel trains within reach of the refurbished Eurostar railway terminus station at St Pancras) were on track to be commissioned in 2007 and would therefore be ready five years before the 2012 Olympic Games came to London.

In 2005, London was planning for the next giant step - "Crossrail", a full-size mainline railway running east-west under London and linking Heathrow Airport to the eastern county of Essex. The Act of Parliament for Crossrail was commissioned in 2005, with digging slated to start in 2009 and a planned in-service date around 2018.

But this morning, millions of Londoners (and Teresa Coulter-Rabb) were dependent on a crowded, creaking, somehow-just-managing-until-something-interrupts-or-happens network of buses, Tube lines, trams and riverboats.

This morning, Terri would be travelling across to South Kensington to meet up with a visiting US pathologist for coffee near the "South Ken" Tube station and to compare notes, in the visitor's hotel, on a case which bore some similarities to the "MK" case which had caught up Faith Coleman in previous years. The visiting pathologist had been interested in the case and wanted to know more; her visit to the UK provided a perfect opportunity to meet with Terri and pick her brains.

The idea to meet on neutral territory then head to the Marriott in South Kensington for an early lunch made sense. Afterwards, Terri would be able to travel cross to the developing SOCA base in Pimlico. Terri also enjoyed riding the "Circle" and "District" lines, which ran for part of their length in the open before dropping down into the "sub-surface" rail tunnels (named because they had been built by the " _cut and cover_ " method, so they lay just below the surface).

Enjoying her school summer holiday, Mattie had volunteered to keep five-year-old Ellie and three-year-old David occupied for the morning. David's third birthday had been an opportunity to meet other parents from David's nursery. Since arriving in the UK on April 2nd, the Coulter-Rabb household had settled into the routine easily.

The rented home had been found within a fortnight, thanks to the British wife of a US diplomat in the embassy; Natasha had developed a "Harriet Sims-Roberts" arrangement as a "Mother Hen" or "Den Mother" to incoming assignees and their families. As Natasha said " _it keeps me busy and helps to settle the new arrivals and their families_ ". Terri saw no reason to argue with Natasha's view on life in London!

Since arriving in the UK, Terri had quickly got to grips with the London Transport system and had decided to cycle north up to Edgeware Road station and then sit on the Circle Line (the yellow line on the London Underground map) southbound. This meant that she could then travel south on the Tube, on a direct train around to "South Ken" without needing to change trains.

She usually allowed 15 minutes for the walk to Edgeware Road and down onto the platform, picking up a coffee on the way. Today, she was taking her Brompton bike with her. She buttoned up the bright yellow reflective tabard over her jacket - this helped other road users to see and avoid her - picked up her cycle helmet and then tucked her new British cell phone into her jacket as she headed out of the front door.

Turning off the radio after listening to the 08:30AM news headlines, Terri placed her rucksack into the front pannier of her Brompton bike as she prepared to cycle towards the Tube station at Edgeware Road. This was the nearest station on the "Tube"

The morning of Thursday 7 July 2005 saw everyone excited about the IOC selection of "London 2012" the day before. For some, the celebrations had run long into the night.

Terri clipped her cycle helmet on and closed the front door in Bryanston Square, sliding the house key into her pants pocket. She knelt down to clip her bicycle clips around her pant-legs (saving the pants from flapping against the chain, although the chain on her Brompton was fully-shielded; she didn't want to run the risk of oil stains).

She wheeled her bike down the front steps to the pavement, ready to set off in the direction of Wyndham Place, as she did on the mornings when she was heading for the Tube.

About to hop onto her bike, she stopped briefly to greet her next-door neighbour (a fellow American from Boston) and then cycled away from the house towards Edgeware Road Tube station. This delayed her by two minutes before she set off to cycle the five-minute cycle route to the Tube station and her chosen coffee stop. Then her cell phone rang out to the Trisha Yearwood tune of " _Wrong side of Memphis_ " signalling a call from Harm. This delayed her by a further minute.

It was now 08:40AM on Thursday 7th July 2005.

A brief traffic jam had meant that she lost another minute before she reached Edgeware Road station, buying a coffee from the little stall at the entrance to the Tube station.

Arriving at the Tube station, Terri was debating whether to fold up her bike outside the station or to wheel it through the gate-line then fold it up. She realised that the lacing on her left boot was coming loose. This had been a persistent minor problem since she purchased the boots for the "Annie Oakley" outfit which she had designed (with Dar-Lin Mattoni's encouragement) to wear at the Mattoni household party the previous year (an event disrupted by her injury in Washington State whilst on the case of the "Kelso killer").

She decided that she would get through the ticket barrier then prop the bike up against a news-stand inside the station. This would enable a quick sprint onto the train once she had tightened up her lace.

At least, that had been Terri's plan as she approached the station. Then, a sound of rapid tapping high heels behind her caused her to turn round and then step aside to allow a smartly-dressed woman to get to the ticket barrier first.

As the woman tapped her OYSTER card and the gates opened, Terri admired her outfit: blonde hair held back in an Alice band, fitted white summer dress with roses on the bodice, powder-blue cardigan over the shoulders, shoulder purse and stiletto heels all matching, along with a small blue wheeled suitcase. The woman smiled her gratitude over her shoulder at Terri and headed onwards through the barriers to the platform, keen to catch the train which (as Terri could hear) was just arriving.

Terri tapped her OYSTER card at the gate line and the barriers swung open. She wheeled her bike into the platform, folded it up with the ease of long practice and rested it in front of a newspaper stand as she removed her rucksack and placed it on top of the news-stand then bent down to undo her cycle-clips. She quickly loosened, tightened and re-tied the lace on her left boot and put on the cycle clips once more. The blonde woman had walked onwards and boarded the westbound train, but the train doors were still open.

Terri looked at her watch then she stood up, picked up her rucksack and her bike then started to walk towards the train.

It was now 08:49AM on Thursday, 7th July 2005...…

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 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" Chapter 22 - "Across the Pond" (Part 38) and "A July Thursday morning" (Part 39)**

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**Next Chapter – Phase 23 - "Aftermath 7/7/2005 - Alternative One" (part 40)**


	23. London 07JUL2005 – Alternative One

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 23 - part 40)**

 **Summary: this is a fictional story, in a fictional (slightly) Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005.** It involves a minor diversion from canon in April 1998 and strikes out in a new direction in 2005 after the final Season Ten episode "Fair Winds and Following Seas" (S10Ep22) first broadcast on 29-Apr-2005. I also extend a nod to "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens (1843) and the JAG episode "What If?" (S09Ep18).

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed.

 **A/N:** Ch 23: We come to the aftermath of the London bombings on Thursday morning July 7th 2005 - and there is a trilogy of alternate timelines after the explosion. These will be published on three consecutive Mondays commencing on Monday 25th February 2019. **NB:** These three chapters (like the rest of this story) are a work of fiction, being based upon fictional characters and incorporating/inspired by some RL events.

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 **Chapter** **2** **3 of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "London, July 7th 2005"**

 **A/N Publication date 29-02-2019** : ...and now, on with Chapter 23: The aftermath of July 7th 2005, when tragedy struck London on a summer Thursday morning.

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 **Chapter 23 - Part 40 - "London, July 7th 2005; Aftermath Alternative One"**

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 **This is a work of fiction: Alternative One of Three:**

 **Friday 22nd July 2005, 12:30hrs BST**

 **The London cemetery**

The north London cemetery was illuminated by dappled sunlight which filtered through the mature trees above the various sections of graves which extended in all directions across the site. The carefully-designed impression of a lovely summer English meadow was lost on the grieving man as he approached the coffin, poised ready for its burial.

The past fortnight had been hell. His overarching sense of powerless, incandescent rage had barely diminished. He had no way of getting at the perpetrators – even so, an old American friend's long-remembered threat to " _rip the head off and crap down the hole_ " had sprung to mind. Then the sense of powerlessness re-asserted itself.

What had made it just slightly easier was the tribute from his teenaged daughter: " _She may not have given birth to me, but she was a wonderful supportive mother to me in the time that we were together - and I love her for that_ ".

Tributes from friends, colleagues and older acquaintances in Tennessee had flooded in once the news of her death had been confirmed in the mortuary on the Friday morning.

In the depths of his despair, a Russian friend of long standing had made the point of seeking him out and visiting London. The Russian saying of " _before you embark upon a mission of revenge, first dig two graves_ " was brought home to him in sharp, finger-poking-in-the-chest-to-make-the-point focus, before a significant amount of vodka made brief inroads into the pain. Of course, he had merely woken up the following morning with a monumental hangover to add to his pile of pain as his friend had staggered into a taxi to head for the Aeroflot check-in desks at Heathrow.

" _OK, that didn't work – take vodka off the list of possible coping mechanisms_ ".

And yet, through all the days of analysis, crying, raging and bewilderment, the one question which he came back to – and the question which kept repeating itself over and over - was one of the simplest questions in life:

" _WHY?_ "

His rage at the apparent random nature of the acts continued unabated for some time. His children had provided a distraction – and a welcome distraction at that - reminding him of her saying that " _life is for the living_ ". The bewilderment of the younger children at the loss of their mother would take a long time to overcome – how do you explain something as unexpected, violent and simply at odds with the norms of civilised behaviour to a three-year-old boy and a girl in her sixth year?

His elder daughter was having particular problems. Having committed to her "new" mother following the death of her birth mother, she was in a different world of rage and pain. Committing wholeheartedly to a new mother is always tinged with guilt, and yet she had made that commitment. In some ways, this left her even more shocked and resentful than her father at the news of the slaughter of her "new" mother.

The identification process, carried out in a cold mortuary in London, had been an experience that would stay with him for the rest of his life. The nails and bolts wrapped around the suicide bombers' bodies had shredded everything within range. That damage had been followed up by the blast damage from the explosives, which had liquefied organs and crushed any remaining life out of the victims as well as pushing out the aluminium sides of the Tube train.

The shock of the identification process had begun to wear off after a few days as his sleep pattern began to re-assert itself. This was, in fairness, just an evolutionary survival process coded into his DNA.

On reflection, he decided that he preferred to remember her as she had been, that morning, smiling and waving as she had set off on her journey towards the Tube station. The unique jewellery and her ear-rings had helped in the identification process.

The resumption of sleep had enabled him to start functioning again, beyond the auto-pilot tasks of looking after his children - and himself, barely.

" _Eat, care, wash, comfort the kids, sleep – repeat_."

The British authorities, almost overwhelmed by the death toll and the high count of injuries, had just about managed to stay on top of the processes. However they had needed, perforce, to cut resourcing on each case back to the bare minimum in order to achieve a timely release of all the bodies of the victims for burial.

The fact that the four perpetrators were all dead had, in some respects, saved the need to gather evidence for any criminal trial.

Nevertheless, London as a city wanted to learn from the incident to see what, if anything, could be learned. The resulting public enquiries would stretch out over the next two years. Therefore, evidence gathering had been vital. In the background, the security services were hard at work trawling through evidence and CCTV.

That morning, his teenaged daughter had surprised him again with her maturity when she had found him, crying mournfully into his oatmeal at the dining table. " _Dad, we shall get through this day as a family - she taught you to be better than this and we can never let the bad guys win_ ".

He had thought back to the cod-Latin riposte of the British: " _Nil carborundum illegitimi_ " - which supposedly translated (in true British perversity of spirit) into " _Don't let the bastards grind you down_ ".

"Thanks, my little junior madam. OK, that's me done for today – crying can wait for a while. Let's go and make Mum proud".

At the cemetery, with his two young children clinging to him and with his teenage daughter holding his arm, the distraught man placed his hand, one last time, upon the coffin of the wonderful woman who had walked alongside him through life for nearly a decade.

" _Goodbye, my darling_ ".

He nodded to the funeral director, whose team lifted the coffin to remove the trestle supports and then lowered it into its eternal resting place. They pulled out the ropes and the vicar moved in for the final pronouncements.

Approaching the edge of the open grave, the grieving man tossed the single red rose and the arrangement of irises (the state flower of Tennessee) onto the engraved plaque on the top of the coffin.

They landed either side of the plaque, which listed the basics of the person contained inside:

The name, which he had expected her to carry into her dotage;

The rank by which she had been known;

Her dates of birth and death – including that terrible, fateful date, Thursday 7th July 2005.

*ENDS*

 **A/N:** CH 24/Part 41 ("07JUL2005 - Alternative Two of three") will be published in a week from "now"

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 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 23 - "London, 07JUL2005 - Alternative One" (part 40)**

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	24. London 07JUL2005 - Alternative Two

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 24 - part 41)**

 **Summary: this is a fictional story, in a fictional (slightly) Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005.** It involves a minor diversion from canon in April 1998 and strikes out in a new direction in 2005 after the final Season Ten episode "Fair Winds and Following Seas" (S10Ep22) first broadcast on 29-Apr-2005. I also extend a nod to "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens (1843) with its "three scenarios" and the JAG episode "What If?" (S09Ep18).

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed.

 **A/N:** Ch 24: We come to the aftermath of the London bombings on Thursday morning July 7th 2005 - and there is a trilogy of alternate timelines after the explosion. These will be published on three consecutive Mondays commencing on Monday 25th February 2019. **NB:** These three chapters (like the rest of this story) are a work of fiction, being based upon fictional characters and incorporating/inspired by some RL events.

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 **Chapter 24 of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "London, July 7th 2005"**

 **A/N Publication date 04-03-2019** : ...and now, on with Chapter 24: The aftermath of July 7th 2005, when tragedy struck London on a summer Thursday morning. Second alternative in this trilogy.

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 **Chapter 24 - Part 41 - "London, July 7th 2005; Aftermath Alternative Two"**

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 **This is a work of fiction:**

 **Alternative Two: (Ch24 / Part 41)**

 **Thursday 7th July 2005, 08:48hrs BST**

 **Edgeware Road Tube station, London, NW1 5DH**

It was now 08:48AM on Thursday 7th July 2005. Terri Coulter-Rabb was steadily eroding her contingency time for her journey around to South Kensington.

A brief traffic jam had meant that she lost another minute before she reached Edgeware Road station, buying a coffee from the little stall at the entrance to the Tube station.

Arriving at the Tube station, Terri was debating whether to fold up her Brompton bike outside the station or to wheel it through the gate-line then fold it up. She realised that the lacing on her left boot was coming loose. It had been a persistent problem since she purchased the boots for the "Annie Oakley" outfit which she had designed (with Dar-Lin Mattoni's encouragement) to wear at the Mattoni household party the previous year. She decided that she would get through the ticket barrier then prop the bike up against a news-stand inside the station; this would enable a quick sprint onto the train once she had tightened up her lace.

That had been Terri's plan as she approached the station. Then, a sound of tapping heels behind her caused her to turn round and then step aside to allow a smartly-dressed woman to get to the ticket barrier first.

As the woman tapped her OYSTER card and the gates opened, Terri admired her outfit: blonde hair held back in an Alice band, fitted white summer dress with roses on the bodice, powder-blue cardigan over the shoulders, shoulder purse and stiletto heels all matching, along with a small blue wheeled suitcase. The woman smiled her gratitude over her shoulder at Terri and headed onwards through the barriers to the platform, keen to catch the train which was just arriving into the platform.

Terri tapped her OYSTER card at the gate line and the barriers swung open. She wheeled her bike into the platform, folded it up with the ease of long practice and rested it in front of a newspaper stand as she removed her rucksack and placed it on top of the news-stand then bent down to undo her cycle-clips (which prevented her trousers catching in the bicycle chain). She quickly tightened and re-tied the lace on her left boot and put on the cycle clips once more. The blonde woman had walked onwards and boarded the westbound train and the train doors were still open.

Terri looked at her watch as she stood up, picked up her rucksack and her bike and then started to walk towards the train.

It was now 08:49AM on Thursday 7th July 2005 – and Terri hadn't reached the train.

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To her distinct annoyance, the train doors slammed shut when Terri was still five yards away across the platform and train 216 departed from the platform. She sighed, turned around and walked back towards a seat, carrying her Brompton and looking at the train schedule on the wall, which gave the timetabled interval between trains. She wouldn't have long to wait – the rush-hour service on the District Line brought trains into the platforms every few minutes.

The train had just disappeared out of sight into the tunnel when there was a bright orange flash, accompanied by a loud bang and then, almost instantly it seemed, a dense pall of smoke or dust (or both) which billowed back into the ticket hall.

Terri's range of vision diminished significantly.

Fortunately. Edgeware Road station is situated in a shallow cutting and is open to the air, so the "smoke" began to dissipate quite quickly - unlike the deep Tube lines at Russell Square on the Piccadilly Line.

Realising that something unusual had happened, Terri pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and held it over her mouth to protect her lungs against the "smoke". She dug a set of safety goggles out of her rucksack. She abandoned her folded Brompton bike alongside the news-stand and headed towards the platform edge to overlook the track, where London Underground staff were already looking down into the tunnel.

The group of LUL staff seemed slightly disorganised and overwhelmed as they stared at dazed survivors who were already beginning to stagger back along the tracks (along live electric rails, she realised!). Alongside the platforms, the railway tracks run on supported columns above two-feet deep "suicide pits", but at the end of the platforms, the floor of the tunnel is just beneath the rails, supported on wooden sleepers or stone ballast.

" _Stand still on the track bed - the power's still on!_ " came an agitated shout from further down the platform, overlooking the fact that the "walking wounded" might have been deafened by the noise and the blast of the explosion.

" _Well that rules out a power surge - what the hell happened?_ " replied another London accent from behind Terri.

The LUL staff quickly re-grouped, helping the passengers clambering up onto the platform towards Terri. Several people - probably walking on auto-pilot - had what looked like nails, bolts and other bits of metal sticking out of them.

 _"Shit", she thought; "this was *definitely* not a power surge!"_

Returning to the news-stand, abandoning her bike and dumping her rucksack, Terri pulled out her green First Aid tabard from her rucksack and pulled it on. As an MD, she was one of the designated First Aiders in the office block where she was based with SOCA. Carrying the First Aid tabard was SOP. She decided to keep her bike helmet on, reasoning that there might be sharp debris hanging from the ceilings inside the Tube carriages.

A loud voice called out " _OK, the power is switched off; come on forwards out of the tunnel towards the sound of my voice_ ".

Seeing her green tabard, a London Underground employee grabbed Terri's arm and urged her towards the train, stationary in the tunnel just beyond the end of the platform.

Terri hung back briefly and asked a pertinent question.

"Hey, wait up, where's the station First Aid kit?"

"Good thought, Doc. _It's kept in the Supervisor's Office, darlin'; 'ang on 'ere, love and I'll go and fetch it. 'Ere Fred, dial three nines will you and get the ambulances rolling"_ "

He was back within two minutes, clutching a green First Aid satchel.

Terri broke the seal and looked into it, carrying out a quick inventory assessment.

She was not impressed.

"Oh Lord, that won't go far. Okey-dokey, let's get to it - will you lead or will you light my way, sir?"

"I'll lead and will light the track with pleasure, Doc - just watch for tripping hazards and stay between the rails", he replied, guiding Terri down off the end of the platform and onto the tracks once more. Terri looked down at the four rails which made up the travel and power infrastructure of a Tube line and briefly thought " _which rails?_ " before deciding to follow in her new friend's footsteps.

There was now a slow stream of people emerging from the train, looking blackened and bloody and dishevelled as they headed towards the daylight. The end doors of the train carriage were open and the internal emergency doors between the carriages had been opened. As she walked from one car to the next, heading towards the front of the train, the extent of the damage grew more severe. As she reached the second car from the front of the train, there was a bizarre, almost-surreal, impression of nails, screws and bolts embedded into all the aluminium metal surfaces of the distorted train carriage. In the absence of window glass, there was an odd breeze wafting through the carriage.

"Bomb" she thought, just as her eyes settled on the pastel blue stiletto heels still attached to the feet of a crumpled body a short way away: the stockings were torn and bloodied. Terri sighed as she recognised the victim - the woman who had smiled and gone ahead of her to catch the train. The blonde hair and what was left of the woman's white summer dress were grubby and splattered with blood, which oozed from many small holes in the woman's body. The floor of the carriage was slippery with blood.

The blue suitcase stood upright but had been penetrated with shrapnel and bent open by the blast; from the wrecked hinges, a dark blue jacket sleeve with the four silver rings of an airline captain's rank had flopped onto the floor, the silver cloth of the rings slowly soaking up the blood. An airline photo-ID card had also escaped from the suitcase, hanging on a lanyard. Terri recognised the face of the lady who had smiled and walked ahead of her at the gate line - less than a half-hour ago.

Terri checked the woman's neck for a pulse, quickly realised that there was none and then she lifted the woman by the arm to check for respiration.

She brushed back the woman's hair - and took a deep breath at the sight. The injuries and damage to the woman's face and chest were severe - and clearly non-survivable. CPR would be out of the question - and totally bloody pointless, she realised in the British vernacular.

Terri covered the woman's head with her yellow bicycle tabard to preserve some dignity as the woman's body lay slumped on the carriage floor. She realised from the silence in the carriage that no-one else was likely to have survived, but then turned to the LUL employee at her side. "OK. We'll check each one for a pulse, but if they haven't already walked out we are going to need major manpower to lift any wounded."

The man nodded gravely and stood up ready to make an announcement, raising his voice. " _OK; Anyone who can hear me, raise a hand._ "

There were a couple of groans: Terri realised immediately that she was probably outnumbered by the wounded. She could do nothing for the dead who surrounded her.

The complete six-car District Line Tube trains had a capacity of 821 persons, although each car only had 32 actual seats. Sometimes – especially in " _rush hour_ " - the carriages were described as " _full and standing_ " (AKA " _rammed full_ "). Therefore it was very logical to assume that Terri was outnumbered by the casualties.

Calmly and rationally, she considered her situation and weighted up her options – including the natural instinct to render assistance ASAP.

Despite the blast, the flying metal shards and the dust, some people had clearly survived the explosion - but would probably bleed to death in the next 20 minutes without urgent care. Covering her mouth with the handkerchief to keep out the dust and crap that was still hanging in the air, she drew a deep breath before exhaling her announcement:

" _OK people, my name is Teresa Rabb and I am a doctor but I need to grab more kit from the station platform before I can usefully help anyone. So, I am going to head back to the platform to get extra help and I *WILL* be back, to this carriage, as soon as I have passed the message asking for reinforcements from the blue light services._ " In her time around British law enforcement, Terri had picked up several of the British police colloquialisms.

Reluctantly, Terri turned around, preparing to leave the carnage. She had to face reality of the situation: just two people, without equipment beyond what amounted to a bag of bandages, sticking-plasters and safety pins (her impartial assessment as she had quickly inspected the station "First Aid Kit" as she walked to the platform edge), could do little in a carriage full of bomb casualties.

She realised that they were, in effect, standing on a battlefield in the middle of a city.

Instinctively, she knew in her heart that she could be of far more use in a triage setup on the platform. But she had made a promise to the victims inside that wrecked carriage and she would be returning to fulfil her promise.

She turned to the LUL guy and whispered urgently, trying to avoid worrying the victims (or casualties) around her if they were to overhear her. "OK, we need to get a shake on here. Let's get back to the platform, into daylight and set up a casualty clearing station; we're hampered down here without at least another torch and we need more manpower".

"OK, makes sense doc - follow me."

The journey back through the other carriages of the train seemed to take a while - the backup battery-powered lights seemed to have malfunctioned; Terri was stumbling over discarded bags and briefcases and she cursed her heeled boots at that moment. Finally she stumbled to the rear end of the train. Turning round and using the grip handles on the end of the train, she stepped down onto the tracks from the end of the driver's cab and followed her LUL "shadow" back along the track to the platform end steps.

Looking back towards daylight in response to the steadily-growing sound of arriving sirens, Terri noted a young Police officer running into the station; she looked at her watch, smearing off the grime which had already covered the face; it was 09:04hrs. The officer ran onto the platform and his eyes were drawn to Terri's green reflective tabard: he turned to move towards her.

Terri simply screamed " _ **AMBULANCES - MULTIPLE – BOMBED TRAIN IN THE TUNNEL!**_ " at him; he nodded and turned away, speaking urgently into his radio. Terri ran to her rucksack by the newsstand, pulled a torch out and then headed back to her LUL escort.

On the way, Terri guided a dazed man, who had emerged from the smoke of the platform, towards the daylight when her view suddenly cleared and she realised that there were other people lying on the platform, each being tended to by one or more other people. The surviving (uninjured) citizens in the train and on the platform had become rescuers. They had, unprompted, begun a " _scoop and run_ " arrangement to bring people out from the darkness of the tunnel to the platform, where help could be more easily rendered away from the dark and smoke - and with more space around each casualty on the wider platform.

A train which had stopped on the other track had disgorged a number of complete strangers who were making their way onto the bombed train to render assistance.

In the tunnel, it was still hellishly dark. The bomb on the train had destroyed the wiring and power for the standby electrical lighting within the Tube carriage, but the British sense of pulling together in adversity had kicked in - strangers were already helping strangers.

" _Dear God_ ", she thought. " _The bad guys may bomb and kill and maim these people, but they will never break the British sense of determination_ ".

In the distance, the sound of approaching sirens intruded into Terri's consciousness. Multiple calls to the British "999" emergency system had alerted the various control rooms to the fact that "something" had happened.

 **(A/N: historical note:** _ **at the various subsequent enquiries into "7/7", lessons were learned because for the first 20 minutes of the incident it was assumed that multiple power surges had occurred on the Tube. Once the facts - along with the severity of what had happened - were finally realised, London's emergency services swung into action to render assistance. However, the fact remained that they had lost one-third of the post-injury "golden hour" to start administering aid to the wounded - once they had identified the site(s) of the incident(s). For example, calls from the public at the Praed Street entrance to Edgeware Road - on the north side of the station - wasted two ambulances which sat there for a half-hour**_ **).**

Terri decided that, with a flood of emergency services reinforcements finally arriving in the station hall, she could safely leave the people who were on the platform to be tended by the arriving emergency services and she could now fulfil her promise to return to the injured in the train carriage.

With her LUL "shadow", Terri headed once more back into the darkness of the track bed and walked to the worst-damaged car in the Tube train.

The next 30 minutes passed in a blur, checking for injuries and making people comfortable - until reinforcements arrived.

Inside the bombed second car, Terri had just stepped over the crater in the floor of the carriage and knelt down alongside the next body in the carriage, feeling for a pulse. A female ambulance paramedic grounded a green backpack alongside Terri. She looked up into the young woman's face, meeting the questioning expression with a shake of her head. The paramedic nodded, picked up her backpack and moved onto the next person lying in the train.

Almost straight away, a British Transport Police officer knelt down alongside Terri. Her response was the same - drawing her finger across her throat, she once more shook her head and then she pointed him towards the ambulance worker, where he might render more-useful assistance.

"Officer, if your radio is working down here, we really need a whole bunch of lights to illuminate this carnage", Terri hollered after him. He raised a hand in acknowledgement.

 **(A/N: historical note: _the "7/7" attacks exposed deficiencies in the radio systems used around the Tube. As part of the improvements deployed in the years after the attack, a significant investment was made in upgrading the radio technology and ensuring better inter-working_ ).**

Plucking a newspaper from the seat behind her, she opened it and placed it over what was left of the dead casualty's face. Instantly, the newspaper began to turn a deep shade of red as it began soaking up the pooled blood on the floor of the carriage.

The last time she had looked at her watch, it was 09:17 hrs on the Thursday morning.

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 **Thursday 7th July 2005, 10:25hrs BST**

 **Edgeware Road Tube station, London, NW1 5DH**

Terri did not return to the daylight for another hour, by which time the London Ambulance Service and London Fire Brigade had finally deployed enough staff into the train carriages to help all the living victims. Rescue ladders were placed directly into the blown-out doors of the Tube carriage. These ladders would assist entry, access and the removal/rescue of victims - along with the eventual recovery of the dead as the operation inevitably swung from "rescue" into "recovery".

On returning to the platform, her LUL "shadow" directed Terri to a small staff room where a kettle and teapot were set up, then provided water to help her wash the worst of the blood and grime off her hands and forearms. The ingrained grime, muck and brake-dust from within the tunnel would have to wait until later.

Some considerable time later, she remembered to call her friend at South Kensington to alert her to the incident.

It was fortunate that Terri made the call at that time, because shortly afterwards the London cell phone network collapsed under the extreme load of the call volumes on that morning once the Metropolitan Police commissioner had confirmed that explosions (not power surges) had taken place. One British cell phone network saw its call volumes rocket from 30,000 calls to 300,000 calls.

Later in the day from the tranquillity and comfort of her home, she would exchange further text messages with her friend; they would agree to chat by landline later and then arrange a replacement date to meet up.

In all the confusion, her trusty Brompton bike had remained where Terri had left it as she had dashed into the tunnel, propped up against the news stand (as a tribute to London, there was very little looting of possessions around the bomb sites that day).

At 10:48 she gave her name and contact details to a British Transport Police officer. She then shook hands with - and bade farewell to - her LUL "shadow", retrieved her rucksack, unfolded the bike, removed her filthy green tabard, put her rucksack in the front pannier and wheeled the bike slowly home to Bryanston Square, walking around the ambulances, fast-response vehicles and medical backpacks which still littered the street from the urgent care calls which had, that morning, tested London's "blue light" services almost to breaking point.

Passing a shop window, she looked at her reflection. "Not gonna win any beauty pageants today", she thought to herself, trudging onwards toward home.

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 **Thursday 7th July 2005, 11:05hrs BST**

 **Rented UK home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

By 11:05hrs, she was back in the house. She walked straight into the utility room and undressed completely, shedding her grubby clothes into the washer, which she topped up with washing powder and a large dollop of fabric conditioner. In fairness, she expected to be washing everything twice, but was still prepared for her trousers to be beyond rescue. Her shopping list for the next trip to Dress Barn in the USA was beginning to grow. She dropped the green First Aid tabard into a bowl of warm soapy water in the sink in the utility room to soak for 24 hours before she would even attempt to scrub the dirt, grime, dust, blood and "biologicals" off it.

Like all UK Government departments, her new Agency had a centralised emergency hotline, hosted via a Freephone (0800-) number. She dialled in, listened to a recorded status message, then confirmed that she was still alive and her whereabouts and her updated contact details. She confirmed her plan to get into work the next day. Following the multiple explosions, the centre of London had been paralysed, with all buses instructed to come to a stand.

Just before she headed for the shower, she dialled Harm's JAG office at the Embassy using the landline, to reassure him that she was OK. As it happened, she had to leave a message because Harm had been in an all-morning workshop and he had not even heard the news of the explosions.

She then turned on the shower. It was at this point - in the privacy of the water flow washing away the grime, blood, dust and general "crap" - that Teresa Coulter-Rabb finally broke down.

The flowing shower water washed away her tears and she emerged, butterfly-like, to a calmer sense of well-being. After drying herself and throwing on warm casual clothing, she picked up the house landline phone and phoned her friend's room number at the Marriott.

The two caught up by phone, promising to reschedule the meeting at their earliest convenience. This was a wise decision: transport remained problematic through the day, although London bus services across the Zone 1 (central) area of the capital would eventually resume after 4pm that day.

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 **Thursday 7th July 2005, 18:23hrs BST**

 **Rented UK home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

By the time he got home, all that Harm could see of the day's adventure was Terri casually dressed in sweats, the tumble-dryer working in the utility room and a grubby pair of her "Annie Oakley" boots in dire need of cleaning and re-polishing! She welcomed him home with a kiss and a large spread of comfort food on the table which Mattie had helped to lay, for all three of them to enjoy (David and Ellen had been fed earlier and were in bed). An easy companionship settled over the Coulter-Rabb family, but Harm realised that Terri was restless as she snuggled against him.

Thinking back, he realised that she had not been this restless during her previous pregnancy. There was something more to her discomfort.

"Darling, I guess you had a bad day – can I help, even by listening?"

"Yeah Tomcat, but let me work out how to describe the awfulness today" she replied. Closing her eyes and nestling into his arms.

With his free hand, Harm glanced at the front page of the London Evening Standard which he had picked up on the way home. The newspaper bore a front-page photograph of a tall blonde woman wearing a bike helmet, in a green first-aid tabard and black trousers, assisting a casualty at an un-named Tube station in the aftermath of the explosions.

But later that night, snuggled in their bed, Terri gave in once again to the horrors which had confronted her that morning; she and Harm talked for over an hour, before sleep overwhelmed her after she had cried out her pain and bewilderment at the events of that morning. Unusually, it had taken two cups of hot chocolate (with a dash of cognac) to get her relaxed (the cognac was a calculated risk despite her pregnancy). Harm realised that Teresa was wound up tighter than a spring. Eventually, the dam burst at 02:00hrs and, after another good cry, Terri slept through the rest of the night without stirring.

She had finally found peace in her husband's arms at the end of the day. She knew that the memories would eventually fade.

 **Dawn would break; the wounded city would rise; and life would go on.**

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 **Friday 8th July 2005,**

 **Across London, capital of the UNITED Kingdom**

Most people don't remember the weather in London on that Friday morning. The day had in fact dawned bright and clear; the city felt bruised, annoyed and aggrieved but determined. The previous day, London had come under attack in a cowardly manner. But London had seen off bigger (and longer-lasting) threats in the past.

London was determined to show that " _life goes on_ ". The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland would mourn its dead and comfort the injured (many of the 700-plus injured were dealing with injuries which would be classed as " _life-changing_ "). The decision had been taken that Tube services would re-start on the Friday morning wherever possible - on lines that were unaffected by the attacks.

In keeping with the mood of the capital city, Harm and Terri made their way to work as usual. Everyone seemed a little more open and slightly more polite, stepping around each other on the pavement rather than the customary barging through.

This attack boosted London's self-determination and the whole of the UK supported the calm, measured response of its citizens.

On the Friday morning, everyone went to work as normal. Citizens were using the Tube lines that were working, hopping on and off the buses as usual, walking or cycling where necessary - in some cases, walking significant distances to get around closures. It was the biggest - and best - message of " _ **f*** you**_ " possible to the twisted minority of terrorist minds who had tried to disrupt the city 24 hours earlier.

The great European city had been wounded; its mortuaries and hospitals were unusually busy for a summer Friday morning, but its citizens were determined to ensure that life went on as usual.

Terri made it to her office, where a series of hurriedly-arranged workshops and evidence-review conferences were being set up. Part of the standard "Lessons Learned" process included capturing any odd incidents and experiences, which would eventually be fed into the inevitable public enquiries.

But the "lady in blue" remained in her mind's eye. Why was an airline captain dressed in such smart casual attire on a summer Thursday morning? As it turned out, the truth would emerge less than a fortnight later.

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 **Thursday 14th July 2005,**

 **Trafalgar Square, Central London**

A two-minute silence for the victims of the bombings was held on 14 July 2005 throughout Europe.

On 14 July, thousands attended a vigil at 18:00 on Trafalgar Square. After an initial silence, there was a series of speakers for the next two hours. Chief Rabbi Sir Jonathan Sacks, speaking of London, said: **"It has the courage not to give terror the victory of making us angry and in our anger lose the values that make us what we are. Let that courage unite us now."** His words were echoed by many of the other speakers.

Lost and anonymous in the crowd, the Coulter-Rabb family joined in with the simple, understated, restrained and very British tribute to the casualties – who were remembered, commemorated and mourned, regardless of their country of origin.

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 **A/N: footnote in history:** _there was a second attempt to blow up public transport in London, just a fortnight later on Thursday 21/7/2005._

 _It failed._

 _The 21/7 plotters planned to cause "bigger and better" explosions on public transport than the bombers a fortnight earlier, who had killed 52 people._

 _However, none of the rucksack devices exploded. This was because ringleader Muktar Said Ibrahim had a poor grasp of mathematics and wrongly calculated the ratio of ingredients needed to trigger the explosions._

 _(Newspaper report)._ " _At the trial of the captured would-be bombers, it emerged that t_ _he 21/7 bombers only failed to kill and maim dozens of Londoners because the bomb-making "mastermind" could not do basic mathematics it emerged today, as the four men were convicted by a jury_ ".

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Terri had formed a fatalistic yet entirely-rational view of the events of July 2005 in London:

 **Sometimes** **you live; sometimes things go right; sometimes things go wrong; and the "bad guys" only have to be lucky once.**

 **Then again, sometimes God smiles.**

But she wondered what kind of world she would be bringing her child into, as she hugged her husband.

Alongside her, Harm kissed the crown of her head and rejoiced in her safe passage through the events of the month.

The events of "7/7" had brought home to him, in stark fashion, that life or death can turn on the happenstance of a moment.

A missed bus, an extra coffee stop, a different carriage on the train; all could affect the path of fate: heck, even a loose boot-lace!

*ENDS*

 **A/N:** CH 25/Part 42 ("07JUL2005 - Alternative Three of three") will be published in a week from "now"

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 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 24 - "London, 07JUL2005 - Alternative Two" (part 41)**

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Dedicated to the memory of the six people murdered at Edgware Road on 7/7/2005:


	25. London 07JUL2005 - Alternative Three

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 25 - part 42)**

 **Summary: this is a fictional story, in a fictional (slightly) Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005.** It involves a minor diversion from canon in April 1998 and strikes out in a new direction in 2005 after the final Season Ten episode "Fair Winds and Following Seas" (S10Ep22) first broadcast on 29-Apr-2005. I also extend a nod to "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens (1843) with its "three scenarios" and the JAG episode "What If?" (S09Ep18).

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed. My thanks to "Syrae", my beta-reader.

 **A/N:** Ch 25: We complete the aftermath of the London bombings on Thursday morning July 7th 2005 - and the trilogy of alternate timelines which branched out after the explosion. **NB:** These three chapters (like the rest of this story) are a work of fiction, being based upon fictional characters and incorporating/inspired by some RL events.

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 **Chapter 25 of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "London, July 7th 2005"**

 **A/N Publication date 11-03-2019** : ...and now, on with Chapter 25: The aftermath of July 7th 2005, when tragedy struck London on a summer Thursday morning. This is the third and final alternative to close out the "AU" scenario which I outlined in Ch 23 (the first part of the trilogy) a fortnight ago.

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 **Chapter 25 - Part 42 - "London, July 7th 2005; Aftermath Alternative Three"**

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 **This is a work of fiction:**

 **Alternative Three (which replays - and follows on from - "Alternative One" by audience request!): (Ch25 / Part 42)**

 **Friday 22nd July 2005, 12:30hrs BST**

 **The London cemetery**

The north London cemetery was illuminated by dappled sunlight which filtered through the mature trees above the various sections of graves which extended in all directions across the site. The carefully-designed impression of a lovely summer English meadow was lost on the grieving man as he approached the coffin, poised ready for its final burial.

This was the final moment of farewell.

The past fortnight had been hell. His overarching sense of powerless, incandescent rage had barely diminished. He had no way of getting at the perpetrators – even so, an old American friend's long-remembered threat to " _rip the head off and crap down the hole_ " had sprung to mind. Then the sense of powerlessness re-asserted itself.

What had made it just slightly easier was the tribute from his teenaged daughter: " _She may not have given birth to me, but she was a wonderful supportive mother to me in the time that we were together - and I loved her for that_ ".

Tributes from friends, colleagues and older acquaintances in Tennessee had flooded in once the news of her death had been confirmed in the mortuary on that terrible Friday morning after the bombing.

In the depths of his despair, a Russian friend of long standing had made the point of seeking him out and visiting London. The Russian saying of " _before you embark upon a mission of revenge, first dig two graves_ " was brought home to him in sharp, _finger-poking-in-the-chest-to-make-the-point_ focus, before a significant amount of vodka made brief inroads into the pain. Of course, he had merely woken up the following morning with a monumental hangover to add to his pile of pain as his friend had staggered into a taxi to head for the Aeroflot check-in desks at Heathrow.

" _OK, that didn't work – take vodka off the list of possible coping mechanisms_ ".

And yet, through all the days of analysis, crying, raging and bewilderment, the one question which he came back to – and the question which kept repeating itself over and over - was one of the simplest questions in life:

" _WHY?_ "

His rage at the apparent random nature of the murderous acts continued unabated for some time. His children had provided a distraction – and a welcome distraction at that - reminding him of his wife's saying that " _life is for the living_ ". The bewilderment of the younger children at the loss of their mother would take a long time to overcome – how do you explain something as unexpected, violent and simply at odds with the norms of civilised behaviour to a three-year-old boy and a girl in her sixth year?

His elder daughter was having particular problems. Having committed to her "new" mother following the death of her birth mother, she was in a different world of rage and pain. Committing wholeheartedly to a new mother is always tinged with guilt, and yet she had made that commitment. In some ways, this left her even more shocked and resentful than her father at the news of the random slaughter of her "new" mother.

The identification process, carried out in a cold mortuary in London, had been an experience that would stay with him for the rest of his life. The nails and bolts wrapped around the suicide bombers' bodies had shredded everything within range. That damage had been followed up by the blast damage from the explosives, which had liquefied organs and crushed any remaining life out of the victims as well as pushing out the aluminium sides of the Tube train.

The shock of the identification process had begun to wear off after a few days as his sleep pattern began to re-assert itself. This was, in fairness, just an evolutionary survival process coded into his DNA.

On reflection, he decided that he preferred to remember her as she had been, that morning, smiling and waving as she had set off on her journey towards the Tube station. The unique jewellery and her ear-rings had helped in the identification process. For the sake of his sanity, this would have to be the memory which he carried forward in his heart.

The partial resumption of sleep had enabled him to start functioning again, beyond the auto-pilot tasks of looking after his children - and himself, barely.

" _Eat, care, wash, comfort the kids, sleep – repeat_."

The British authorities, almost overwhelmed by the death toll and the high count of injuries, had just about managed to stay on top of the processes. However they had needed, perforce, to cut resourcing on each case back to the bare minimum in order to achieve a timely release of all the bodies of the victims for burial.

The fact that the four perpetrators were all dead had, in some respects, saved the need to gather evidence for any criminal trial.

Nevertheless, London as a city wanted to learn from the incident to see what, if anything, could be improved in future. The resulting public enquiries would stretch out over the next two years. Therefore, evidence gathering had been vital. In the background, the security services were hard at work trawling through evidence and CCTV, tracking the bombers back along the journey to their murderous climax. For once, the six million CCTV cameras deployed within the UK could provide vital clues - and an information overload for the analysts who had to sort through the resulting mountain of video evidence.

That morning, his teenaged daughter had surprised him again with her maturity when she had found him, crying mournfully into his oatmeal at the dining table. " _Dad, we shall get through this day as a family - she taught you to be better than this and we can *never* let the bad guys win_ ".

He had thought back to the cod-Latin riposte of the British: " _Nil carborundum illegitimi_ " - which supposedly translated (in true British perversity of spirit) into " _Don't let the bastards grind you down_ ".

"Thanks, my little junior madam. OK, that's me done for today – crying can wait for a while. Let's go and make Mum proud".

At the cemetery, with his two young children clinging to him and with his teenage daughter holding his arm, the distraught man placed his hand, one last time, upon the coffin of the wonderful woman who had walked alongside him through life for nearly a decade. Their journey, together, into old age had been cruelly interrupted.

" _Goodbye, my darling_ ".

He nodded to the funeral director, whose team lifted the coffin to remove the trestle supports and then lowered it into its eternal resting place. They pulled out the ropes and the vicar moved in for the final pronouncements.

Approaching the edge of the open grave, the grieving man tossed the single red rose and the arrangement of irises (the state flower of Tennessee) onto the engraved plaque on the top of the coffin.

They landed either side of the plaque, which listed the basics of the person contained inside:

The name, which he had expected her to carry into her dotage;

The rank by which she had been known;

Her dates of birth and death – including that terrible, fateful date, Thursday 7th July 2005.

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Leading his three children, he stepped away from the graveside, walking around the grave to greet the blonde American woman and her tall dark-haired husband with their three children (coincidentally close in ages to Cynthia, Maria and Albert). He held out his hand in greeting.

"Doctor Coulter-Rabb, thank you for coming. I know, from the initial reports, that Angela was beyond help when you got to her, but thank you for the light which you have shed on her death and for describing her happiness which you had witnessed in the moments before she was slain. I also appreciated your courtesy in covering her face - indeed, it was the name and phone number on your yellow bike tabard which enabled the Met Police to place me in contact with you. We are - all of us - grateful that you were with Angela on that terrible day and that you were here today, with us once more, as we laid her to rest, for the final-final farewell"."

He smiled: "We had just discovered – to our considerable joy - that she was carrying a new brother or sister for Cynthia, Maria and Albert, due to be born just after Christmas."

He paused for a moment before continuing, conspiratorially: "It was an accident, of course, but Angela was quite delighted to be pregnant again. She was on her way to meet her obstetrician for an initial scan before she headed to Heathrow to fly her service across to the US."

He looked up into Harm's eyes, desperate to enforce a positive message: "Captain Rabb, don't let this be your abiding vision of London; we have a two-thousand-year-plus history with only very occasional periods of unpleasantness. I therefore hope that you will enjoy the rest of the duration of your posting here and your mission at your embassy. There is something special about our London welcome for citizens of what we - very affectionately - refer to as ' _the Colonies_ ' across the Pond."

He continued, tears still welling up in his eyes. "Angela had loved this city for 15 years since she first flew in here from Philadelphia and she was always incredibly positive about the atmosphere and the energy (as well as the easy routes that her airline had back 'home' to Nashville if she fancied a fix of the Grand Ol' Opry anytime). She spent five years working here before we met at Heathrow almost a decade ago and she always enjoyed life. When we met, she took to Cynthia and brought her up as though she were her own daughter, which wasn't easy because Cynthia was only two when her mother died. Angela was a committed Anglophile despite her Tennessee roots."

He looked up at the trees above and smiled before continuing. "With the Olympics in seven years' time, London will once again be looking forward positively and will welcome the world to our doorstep. We just need to lick our wounds for a bit."

The adults shook hands whilst Mattie embraced Cynthia, Ellen embraced Maria whilst David and Albert managed a "sort of high-five" greeting, typical of that between two young boys.

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Walking slowly away from the graveside, Terri shivered and hugged Harm close.

"Someone walked over your grave, darling?" he asked.

Terri shook her head, but looked down at the toecaps of her boots before responding carefully.

"Nope, Tomcat, I was just thinking back to the night that I gave birth to Ellie; remember what I said to you - directions in case things went south?"

Harm pondered for a second then nodded. "But they didn't, then Ellie was born, then David arrived and now Mattie has joined us, so now I have all three of them - plus you - here in London with me".

Terri frowned - Harm was doing his customary " _over-optimistic flyboy_ " answer to a serious question. The failed bombings of the day before were fresh in everyone's collective memories.

"Yeah; but Harm, if something like this happens again (as it could, let's not be naïve) then I want you to stay in London, finish your mission and stay with JAG. Remind the children about me occasionally but live your life - and by that, I don't mean live like a monk for the rest of your life, wrapped up in grief. Use that guy and his kids – and his wonderful positive outlook - as a role-model."

Tears welled up in Harm's eyes, and he kissed Terri passionately before continuing.

"Dear God, Terri, you would be - heck, you are and always have been - a very hard act to follow. It would take a phenomenal woman to follow you, Mrs Coulter-Rabb."

He cleared his throat, which had suddenly become tight. "But yes, I agree. What you outline makes sense but I - obviously - hope that I never have to put that plan into operation. By the same token, the same goes for you if something happens to me - which, with me still flying, is still a possibility. Please promise me that you won't live like a nun?"

Terri smiled and patted his arm reassuringly.

"Yes darling, understood. Hell, flying could be considered a safe occupation after what happened - I mean, I was simply going to work on the Tube on a Thursday morning when some nutter blew himself to Hell whilst I was re-tying the laces on these boots".

She laughed: "Well, if he was after milk, honey and 72 virgins, he's not counted on my 94-year-old Great-Aunt Brigid from Connemara being one of the 72!"

She looked at Harm, concern written upon her lovely face as she gestured back into the cemetery, towards the recently-widowed man and his three children. "How is that lovely broken man really going to cope - he lost Cynthia's mother to cancer before she hit 35 and then to lose Angela to terrorism; that would shake anybody's faith".

Harm smiled; "Yes - and it *could* indeed have shaken his faith, but the point is that it didn't. He and I touched on this last week, when we first met at the Embassy last week because he had a question regarding Angela's US passport and the legal status of their UK-born children. He told me that, because God obviously has a sense of humour, he had strong hopes of being lucky a third time."

He shuddered: "God, I might manage once again if I lost you, darling Teresa, but losing a wife twice? Dear God, please no!" He hugged her close, once more.

"Harm, if you don't let up, you may be looking for wife number two sooner than you think!"

"Huh?"

Terri smacked Harm's shoulders, wrapping her arms around his back.

"Harm, I can't breathe! I know that you're affectionate, but I *am* pregnant and you're gripping me like a corset!"

"Oh hell, sorry darling." Harm's hug relaxed instantly. Terri kissed him passionately, in gratitude for her release.

They had reached the cemetery gates. Waiting just outside, the US Marine driver (in civilian clothing) nodded and opened the door of the Embassy limousine which was their transport for the day.

As the doors closed and the children settled into their seats and buckled up, Harm directed the driver.

"Back to Bryanston Square please, sergeant and then we'll say ' _farewell and thank_ ' you for the day, as we begin our weekend."

"Aye-aye, sir".

 **Terri looked back at the cemetery gates with a shiver; if she hadn't stopped to re-lace her boot, and had walked alongside Angela into the second car of that Tube train that fateful Thursday morning…**

She realised that the lovely widower was right - God has a strange sense of humour.

Terri resolved that she would be in church on Sunday to give thanks.

She also decided that, if the obstetricians found that she was carrying a girl, the name "Angela" would be part of the naming ceremony. She had resolved that she was going to commemorate "Captain Angela". The name would live on. It would be an entirely appropriate way for the world to commemorate the slain pilot, wife and mother. They – the Coulter-Rabb family - would commemorate one of the 52 dead victims. Angela Georgina Coulter-Rabb would carry forward the name, _in memoriam_.

The 784 non-fatal victims of the "7/7" attacks would continue to heal – slowly and over many years in some cases.

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 **Thursday 28th July 2005, 17:53hrs BST**

 **Rented UK home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

Terri cycled home and parked her bicycle in the hallway as usual that evening. Mattie was already preparing vegetables for the family evening meal, with Ellen and David watching quietly from their seats around the family breakfast table.

Terri was so pleased to close the front door and concentrate on her vision of domestic tranquillity. She called all three of her children together and hugged them tight.

The Government departmental briefings that day had been interesting, as several UK agencies pooled their findings on the two sets of bombing attacks in the previous month.

As the evidence gathered after the "21/7" near-miss a week earlier became available through the analysis conducted after the arrests, London was learning its lessons already.

Terri sighed: London had been tremendously lucky this month, with the failed attack coming just a fortnight after the tragedy of the terrorist attack which was already becoming known as "7/7".

The recognised casualty figures included significantly more than the 700-plus people treated at the scene or taken to hospital on the day. Over time, London and the UK would realise that many people on the periphery of the bombings had simply "walked away".

 **A/N: Historical note:** **The positive effects of peer support for survivors of major terrorist incidents has begun to change how treatment is planned in case of future attacks. The Foundation for Peace in Warrington, set up in the wake of a 1993 IRA bomb which killed 12-year-old Tim Parry and three-year-old Jonathan Ball, runs a Survivors Assistance Network for anyone affected by terrorism, grant-funded by the UK Ministry of Justice.**

Touching her still-smooth stomach and thinking of the growing foetus within, she reminded herself that, even in the depths of the utmost depravity and inhumanity on that July morning, she had witnessed great acts of kindness between strangers.

She reaffirmed that life - even in the London of July 2005 - had many good points.

 **And life goes on.**

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 25 - "London, July 7th 2005 - Alternative Three" (part 42)**

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 **Next Chapter? OK, folks –** over to you! I need your views and support for my next decision.

We have reached a natural break in the story of "Cigars, bones, babies and Jimmy Blackhorse". So, I could say " _farewell and thanks for your company_ " or we could continue in due course (I still have ideas for Harmon Rabb and Teresa Coulter-Rabb, together with their offspring). Silence on the reviews service will be taken to indicate " _Thanks Mike, but we've had enough_ " – and that would be fine from my PoV.

The choice, dear readers, is yours. There is, obviously, more to write in the "babies" section of the title of this story.

You have plenty of time - I shall make my decision when I return to the website at the end of April.

Otherwise, I shall now return all the JAG characters to an upright position and the waters of the JAG timeline can return to their unruffled state. Thank you for stopping by, reading and particularly for your reviews; several of these gave me alternate lines to explore as my story developed - no criticism or suggestion is ever wasted!

Either way, I shall be stepping away from Harm and Terri for at least a month. I expect to be dropping off the FFN grid until probably the middle/end of April 2019, to attend to some family matters.

But do please, please leave me a review - ideally by logging in, so that I may thank you personally by PM in the FFN website and - even more importantly for me - seek your suggestions and preferences for my next story (or a follow-up to this story? Who knows?) .

 **Mike, England, 11-March-2019**


	26. A Christmas meeting

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 26 - part 43)**

 **Summary: this is a fictional story, in a fictional (slightly) Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005.** It involves a minor diversion from canon in April 1998 and strikes out in a new direction in 2005 after the final Season Ten episode "Fair Winds and Following Seas".

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed. My thanks to "Syrae", my beta-reader.

 **A/N:** Allusion to canon: *none* - Since Ch 21, our AU story is now beyond the end of season Ten - the end of "canon" JAG.

 **A/N:** Ch 26: Harm and Terri continue to await the arrival of their third child. Harm settles into duties in Naples. Christmas 2005 approaches – their first Christmas in London...

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 **Chapter 26 of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "A Christmas meeting"**

 **A/N Publication date 11-Jun-2019** : ...and now, on with Chapter 26: Following the aftermath of July 7th 2005, Harm works through the tasks necessary to relocate his command to Naples, supported by Terri and supporting her through the development of their third child together. Then two of their friends meet by accident – with positive results.

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 **Chapter 26 - Part 43 - "A Christmas meeting"**

 **Friday 29th July 2005, 10:30hrs BST**

 **Obstetrics Unit, The London Hospital**

Dr Gabriella Sabatini looked at the blonde American woman sitting across from her and smiled.

"The good news, Mrs. Coulter-Rabb, is that everything looks fine. Everything points to a conception around the middle of April from what you have told me, which puts us at January for a delivery. Now, as this is your third child, we have very little to be concerned about, so relax and start painting the nursery. In terms of your occupation – aha, a pathologist; how have you found leaning over autopsy tables during your last two pregnancies?"

Terri smiled. "Quite easy in the most part; first time around with Ellen things got a little sore towards the end, but my body eventually adjusted and the second pregnancy with David was a breeze. Also, I'm on secondment over here with the UK government's National Crime Agency, so my table time is reduced and I'm doing more analysis and lecturing. The only fly in the ointment is that my husband – he's a Captain in the US Navy – is about to relocate his command to Naples for the next two years until his deployment finishes. So I have a little bit of stress regarding how we'll handle the move again."

Sabatini nodded understandingly then made the suggestion which would answer several problems.

"Ah, Napoli – a lovely city and a very family-friendly environment. But would you move or would you suggest, perhaps, that he commutes? I ask, because for the past three months I have been flying back to Napoli every Friday night, home again on Sunday, to help my sister to look after our Momma; she is declining which means Andrea and Carla take care of her during the week and I cover the weekends so that they can spend quality time with their families."

"Your husband must be some fantastically organised superhero, supporting his wife and family whilst holding down a job?"

"Giovanni is a corporate lawyer, but he has a smoothly-organised office in the City, we have a live-in _au pair_ who is _magnifico_ and my two _bambini_ are, thank heavens, almost-perfectly behaved and at school during the day. Friday night is hectic but he gets to spend time with his fellow lawyers during the week and exclusive 'Daddy' time with our children at the weekend when I fly home to look after Momma – so I have domestic paradise here in England."

She looked at Terri. "I guess that your husband is similarly organised as a military man? So, here is an idea. You run your home on military lines for the next two years, he commutes to his command on the low-cost airlines and your children stay settled and remain calm after the upheaval of coming to London earlier this year."

"You know what, Dr Sabatini: that might just work!" Terri was delighted that she had not only found the right pre-natal care but that the "career conflict" which had been niggling away in the background at home might be amiably solved.

Now, it all depended upon how flexible a certain naval flyer-turned-lawyer could be.

On returning home, Terri spent a few hours researching before she had to collect six-year-old Ellie from school and three-year-old David from day-care.

By the time that Harm came through the front door that evening, Terri had a reasonable working hypothesis to place before her husband.

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 **Friday 29th July 2005, 18:14hrs BST**

 **Home of Capt. Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and Lt Cdr. Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

" _Hi honey, I'm home_ ".

Harm never tired of greeting his wife in the time-honoured manner. Even after several years, he was occasionally in awe of Terri's decision to seek him out and eventually marry him. He never forgot his gratitude to her for rescuing him from his over-long bachelor period. Very occasionally, he wondered – then dismissed the thought – how Mac was getting on in San Diego. The emails had dwindled to what was now a quarterly half-page update and frankly, Harm was content with that. He had closed the Mac page, after years of an enjoyable working relationship.

He had realised and been reminded - in sharp focus - how much he valued Terri during this past month. Hearing her recount the tale of how close she had been to the exploding train on "7/7" had reminded him of just how much he – and their children – had to lose.

He also realised that he was looking forward to becoming a father once more. The mid-April conception had obviously come as a surprise, but one which both he and Terri had welcomed. In the middle of the relocation, they had simply gotten frisky one afternoon as they were unpacking boxes when the kids were away with the families of Terri's new colleagues and Mattie was at the cinema with college pals. He was certain that he wouldn't be approaching the Captain von Trapp size of family as portrayed in the mythical "Sound of Music", but four children was a good legacy to leave behind.

Closing the door and hanging up his suit cover, he hugged his wife and greeted his children. Ellen had been drawing at school, so her artwork was applauded and then ceremoniously placed on the door of the refrigerator.

Terri took him by the hand and led him to the kitchen tables, where she had laid out the results of her research during the afternoon.

"Harm, I met with my OB-GYN today and all is fine on the pregnancy front. However, she came up with a suggestion which I believe merits consideration."

Harm's eyebrow rose quizzically. She slapped his forearm playfully. "Now, don't look at me like that, Captain Rabb! You and I have both been worrying about the Naples upheaval for our kids and this pregnancy may complicate matters – agreed?"

"Yes." His reply was a very-cautious "lawyer" response. She hugged him.

"Dr Sabatini currently commutes to Italy at weekends then comes back home over here to work during the week and it works quite smoothly for her. What if we – your family – were to stay here in the UK whilst you commute to Naples?"

"I'd be an absent father for my kids…." Harm had put his family front and centre with his first thought. Terri was so proud of her Tomcat as she replied.

"To an extent, darling, yes – but we are (like it or not) a military family. We've been lucky to be deployed together this time; I could still be in DC and you could, for instance, be doing six months on a carrier in the Gulf. So let's look at the positives. And before you ask – no, I don't want to get rid of you." She caressed her stomach and looked up at him: "Let's face it, sailor, I'd have to love you to put my body through this a third time when I'm already some way into my forties!"

He nodded. "Yes darling, this deserves serious consideration. Maybe I could pick Dr Sabatini's brains over dinner one evening next week or whenever – we have a couple of months as I don't need to be there before September 21st."

"Good – I shall call her office on Monday and set it up. Now come and start your weekend, as we have all worked hard this week. Mattie has cooked us an experimental Spaghetti Bolognese using something called Quorn – it is a meat substitute but everyone says it tastes like chicken."

An hour later, Mattie's Special Spaghetti Bolognese was rated a success. Ellen had worked her way through a good helping, whilst David had minimised the amount of the table which he had decorated with the tasty, tangy red sauce.

Harm complimented his elder daughter. "Thanks squirt, that was lovely".

"My pleasure Dad. That means a lot."

He hugged her warmly. "Squirt, all I would ever want (and Terri is the same) is for you to have the best chance in life. This enlarged family is part of your support network. So we need to involve you in a discussion about Naples…"

"OK, cool – how can I help?"

For the next hour, Harm and Terri worked with Mattie through a discussion along the "plus and minus" aspects of the Naples deployment. Ellen, mature beyond her six years, played quietly with David in the corner, with Mattie and Terri periodically casting a protective eye over them.

Eventually Terri sat back and stretched her spine.

"You know Harm, although I'll be taking maternity leave and stepping away from SOCA duties for a while, I reckon we've lined up more positives than drawbacks about keeping the family based here rather than upheaving again and heading down to the Mediterranean. Heck, our daughter's already proven that she can deliver spaghetti like an Italian!"

"I am minded to agree with you. The FJAG role has some elements of mobility anyway and I'll be back occasionally for official business. But I definitely do need to look at flight costs."

"OK darling. In lawyer-speak, why don't we 'table' this until Dr Sabatini comes back from her Italian weekend? Let me call her on Monday and see what dates are possible."

"Sounds good." They kissed, as Harm ran his hand across Terri's waist. "I agree with you Terri, we'd have less upheaval if the family stays in London. Heck, I'll just treat is as a deployment every week – so you'll be welcoming your sailor home from the sea every Friday."

"Ooh, I reckon that your family could cope with that sort of welcoming the sailor home from the sea on a regular basis" Terri smiled, as she kissed him once more. A groan from Mattie reminded them that this was dangerously close to "Too Much Information" for the teenager, who was still in the same room with them.

"Bachelor quarters or Visiting Office Quarters may be the deal – I'll get the Admiral's yeoman to look at the prospects on Monday, before I raise it with General Cresswell on Monday afternoon after Falls Church wakes up."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Wednesday 3** **rd** **August 2005, 18:45hrs BST**

 **Home of Capt. Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and Lt. Cdr. Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

" _Hi, house-call for Rabb! Where's my lovely patient?_ "

Terri welcomed Gabriella and brought her into the lounge, where she introduced Harm and the children. Over a glass of champagne (and grape juice for Terri) they outlined their thought processes about "The Italian Job".

"We need to work out how we survive as a family once Harm's command is moved to Naples in September; he's committed for two years and we all support him. However, there is a strong case for the family remaining here in London – we've now settled here, plus the new baby is on the way. What is your experience, Dr Sabatini?"

"Oh please, call me Gabriella – at least away from the consulting rooms. Now, I know that I spend a chunk of time in the air every week, but if I am disciplined I can use it as productive time with my laptop and then close the door when I get back home on Sunday evening. Momma is so happy to see me every week and Giovanni loves his time with the kids at the weekends ( a time when he is home and his office is closed). For us, it is a win-win, but we'll be seriously 'knackered' if one of the low-cost carriers packs up".

"Yeah, but as flying recovers robustly from 2001, I suspect that most airlines are pretty stable. It's a pity that Ryanair route a lot of their flying through Dublin, otherwise they would pick up more business on the direct Italian routes."

"Yeah, point-to-point flights are the way to go. Also, within our home here in London, we would have problems if we were to lose our _au-pair_ , because Svetlana is wonderful."

"That's an interesting idea but – for now – Mattie is keen to help out with the little ones. We're not tying her feet to the floor, but if she does need to spread her wings later, then we could look at recruiting an _au-pair,_ " Terri replied, looking at Harm for confirmation. He smiled and nodded.

"Let me know if you do need to go down that road, because I can recommend a very good agency," Gabriella replied.

"So, what are the main drawbacks to being separated during the week?" Terri was keen to get down into the weeds; if this option was to be explored seriously, it would simply *have* to be on the basis of " _warts and all_ ". Gabriella was perfectly-placed to give them the evidence, on which to base their decision.

"First and foremost – airlines will occasionally suffer delays; it is part of the Universe. So have a good book and an emergency clothing kit at hand.

"Second, get yourselves cell-phones with great international packages. There is a new service called SKYPE, which started the other year; I reckon that it makes calling across the Internet a workable solution. Giovanni has a good internet base in his office and he has a "satellite" office at our home; I've set up a similar little internet station in Momma's bedroom, so we are able to chat long-term for just the local internet connection costs." She sighed. "I would wish for video but that is probably some little time ahead on the development scale."

"Third, sleep when you can; on weekdays, get a good night's sleep every evening, because the Friday and Sunday travelling will eat into your sleep bank". She smiled: "Then also make sure that Saturdays are special, for your *entire* family and not just your spouse!"

"Fourth; have several weeks' worth of clothes – right down to underwear; pack the following weekend's suitcase the weekend before, so that it becomes part of your routine and so that you are never without a set of clothing to fly. I have built up a small wardrobe of clothes back in Napoli, not that I refer to London as "home" because this lovely city is where my husband and children live. Momma will not be with us forever – Andrea and Carla already know this and we are agreed on what steps to take as she deteriorates." He eyes clouded briefly but then she looked up, smiling brightly. "And that will, hopefully, be a while away."

"Finally: book your tickets some way in advance; the internet is great and most airlines can plan up to a year ahead; our 'sweet-spot' is around four months out; get a credit card which clocks up frequent-flyer miles."

She sighed once more. "But remember, a proportion of your family budget is going to be disappearing up the tailpipes of Airbus and Boeing products for as long as you do this. Make sure that your budget can survive – especially as you have another kid on the way, Teresa."

Terri nodded. "Yes, we know; but we are financially secure and coming to the conclusion that this is the best for our family; the grown-ups are going to have to put up with some more stress and inconvenience. But hey, that's part of the job description for the job marked ' _parent_ ', I guess."

The discussion continued into the Friday night and eventually Gabriella left in a taxi just before midnight. As they waved her off, Terri slipped her hand into the back pocket of Harm's jeans and leaned up to kiss him.

"Husband, we are going to have to be careful but I am sure that we can achieve this."

He nodded, turning to reciprocate the kiss. "Yes Terri, but from the career PoV this is the important first step as an O-5 before I start looking for my O-6." He smiled; "So if you want to be Doctor Coulter-Rabb, wife of Admiral Rabb the JAG or whatever, then I need these postings."  
He kissed her again, this time with such tenderness that she groaned in anticipation.

"And remember, not only do I love you but I will "always" come home to you, darling wife." He began to kiss his way down her neck, nudging open her blouse as he headed south past her small cross on its thin gold necklace.

Terri was heading into low earth orbit, reminding herself (not that she *really* needed reminding because this man had by now been in her life for seven years) of just why she wanted him in her/their bed tonight. She reached out around him, caressing his buttocks and drawing a finger-nail back across his backside.

"Come on Sailor, I have a job for you."

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 25th August 2005, 06:45hrs BST**

 **Home of Capt. Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr. Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

The Monday was a "bank holiday" – one of the public holidays in the UK. The family had packed and prepared for a daytrip to the South Coast of England at a lovely beach called West Wittering, east of Chichester. Given the likely traffic levels, an early escape from London was regarded as a very sensible precaution.

Terri had elected to take first shift behind the wheel; her pregnancy still caused her little inconvenience, but she wanted to get the driving done whilst she was still alert and before the heat of the day; the journey to the coast would involve driving into the sun for part of the way. In the rear, Mattie had ensured that the two smaller children were safely strapped in on their booster cushions so that the seatbelts could be correctly secured.

" _Wagons roll_ " was the cry that went up at 06:52hrs; the Coulter-Rabb family was on the move.

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 **Monday 25th August 2005, 11:35hrs BST**

 **The beach, West Wittering, West Sussex UK**

Terri strolled up the beach and settled in a deck-chair alongside Harm, who reached into the picnic hamper and handed her a meat sandwich. She thanked him then gazed out to sea. At this point on the south coast, the English Channel was so wide that France was invisible, over the horizon to the south.

"Harm, we can still do things like this even if you are in Naples during the week. It won't be easy, but you should go with this commuting plan."

He reached across and squeezed her hand.

"Thank you, darling – I had reached the same conclusion. It is the best for my family."

She kissed him gently. "Harmon Rabb jr, my family man. Love you Harm."

"Love you, Teresa."

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 **Sunday 11** **th** **September 2005, 09:55hrs BST**

 **Home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

The Saturday packing had been turned into a game, to keep the younger children distracted; Ellen and David had enjoyed helping Daddy to pack the cases for the coming week and also for the next weekend (heeding Gabriella's advice).

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 **Friday 16th September 2005, 21:45hrs BST**

 **Home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

" _Hi honey, I'm home_ ".

Harm stepped through the door just over an hour after leaving the airport. Dropping his bags in the hallway, he greeted his wife and then his eldest daughter, before heading up the stairs where his two youngest children were half-asleep; the knowledge that "daddy's home" sent them off to sleep almost immediately, meaning that they would be alert and well-behaved on the Saturday morning.

The whole family would be eating at the breakfast table on the Saturday morning. Harm and Terri had tag-teamed the kids, setting this up as a part of the next two years. Harm also made an allowance for the fact that Mattie was developing a network of teenage friends who would, inevitably, have sleepovers and the like.

" _By all means miss this if you have a better offer, otherwise *this* is where you will be on a Saturday mornings whilst I am posted to Naples for the next two years. We shall start the weekend well-rested and we shall confirm what we are doing. If one or more of us are going off independently, we shall agree timings, who to call in an emergency plus – most importantly_ " – he looked pointedly at Mattie – " _when we expect to get back_ ".

"Yes Dad."

"OK, hot chocolate and cookies all round."

Thus it was that another Coulter-Rabb family tradition – " ** _welcoming the homecomer_** " was begun. It would survive the London posting and would be a part of life for Mattie as she joined the US services, staying with Ellen and David (and "the new bump 2005") as they grew into independent adults.

Harm and Teresa Coulter-Rabb had suffered "broken homes" during their childhoods. They were absolutely determined to ensure that their children were loved, secure, supported and that they knew how family life was meant to be.

 **In that regard – as in nearly every other single aspect of their parenting – Harm and Terri hit their target.**

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 **Thursday 24** **th** **November 2005, (Thanksgiving Day) 01:39hrs GMT**

 **Home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

" _Happy Thanksgiving, everyone_ ".

The American tradition of "thanksgiving" had translated across the Atlantic with little difficulty. Harm had hitched a ride back into RAF Mildenhall and had arrived home at 01:38hrs on the Thursday morning, ready to spend an extended weekend in the UK.

He had walked through the door to the aroma of warm turkey and an even-warmer welcome from his seven-month pregnant wife.

Terri had just started her maternity leave of absence from SOCA and was expected to be back at her desk in Pimlico by the start of April if everything went to plan. She was increasingly delegating tasks to Mattie (by discussion and agreement each time) and the teenager was thriving on the added responsibility.

She had a strong feeling that she was definitely carrying a girl, so the name of "Angela Georgina Sarah" (for Harm's grandmother Sarah Rabb) was lined up for the birth certificate. If a boy turned up, she would have a problem!

Gabriella had made recommendations for the hospital where she should plan her delivery in January, so Terri was a picture of domestic tranquillity as she and Mattie finished preparing the potatoes just as Harm wearily let himself in through the front door.

She took one look at him and issued her first order of the weekend.

" _OK, Mister Rabb; shoes off, suitcase in the study then hot chocolate and bed_ ".

"Yes ma'am!"

The kissing would start a little later!

Mattie would be on point, early in the morning to support the little ones, giving her parents a chance for a lie-in. She would arrange a nap later in the morning. For a teenager undergoing periodic growth spurts, she seemed to be able to survive periods of sleep deprivation without any apparent problem. This resilience would serve her well during her future military career (of which more much later).

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 12** **th** **December 2005, 17:29hrs GMT**

 **Private meetings suite, Embassy of the United States of America to the Court of St James, 24 Grosvenor Square** , **London** , **W1K 6AH**

Since beginning his Naples posting in September, Harm had been flying home to London every second weekend (unless he could schedule a meeting for Friday or Monday). Thomas Chaddock had settled into the au-pair's suite and was doing a great job as the supportive grandfather. Terri had re-built her relationship with Thomas – the passage of time since the acquittal in May 2000 had left father and daughter ready for the next step in their long _rapprochement_. They had both leapt at the chance to build further bridges and the opportunity to support the family in London was ideal for Thomas.

Sergei also due, in January, for a two-week visit around the due date for "Bump No 3" – Terri had deliberately chosen *not* to know the gender (but she had her suspicions – and preferences). She was, however, very clear that " _this is the last time I put my body through this_ " and Harm had agreed to what needed to be done to stem the flow of future little Coulter-Rabb offspring.

Mattie was pleased and proud to be assisting Terri around the house, which lifted the pressure of impending fatherhood from Harm's shoulders. Fortuitously, Gabriella's local Napolitano recommendations had found a small rented apartment a half-kilometre from the naval base to where FJAG had relocated in September.

Apart from one horrendously-late Friday night arrival back into the UK, the commuting was working out successfully for Harm – and Terri was entirely happy with the arrangement, even as her date of confinement approached. His running distances, both morning and evening, were improving in the warmer climate of Italy. The communications services were being well-used and he was grateful for SKYPE, which was growing in maturity with every month.

With Christmas approaching, Harm would be back in the UK until the first full week of January. They also wanted to plan for the upcoming arrival of "The Bump 3.0". Terri had appreciated the wisdom of starting her maternity leave before Christmas, guided by Gabriella's advice.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

Harm had been catching up with the widower of the female airline pilot who had been killed on 7/7. He and Terri had stayed in contact with Andrew after the funeral in late July and a firm friendship had developed – and not just between the adults. It had turned out that Cynthia, Maria and Albert happened to be similar in ages to Mattie, Ellen and David: as a result, the six offspring had formed firm bonds of friendship.

This week, Harm had specifically wanted to meet with Andrew to ensure that the Embassy's Visa section had not caused any problems for the UK husband/father of three children who were US citizens. He was conscious (from comments from other British officers working alongside him in Naples) that in the preceding years since 9/11, US Immigration policy had tightened their rules. This had resulted in an unexpected side-effect – growing and significant numbers of honest British tourists abandoning their next Florida/California vacations and heading instead to Canada, irritated by the " _Fortress America_ " interrogations introduced by US Immigration from 2003 onwards.

"So Andrew, you are looking great and it has been inspiring to hear how you and your family have been recovering since July; I wish you a wonderful Christmas".

"Thanks Harm- and thanks for getting the confirmation through your Visa section. I must also say that you and Terri have been part of the recovery. Just having someone to chat with occasionally has been useful to me (and the kids have enjoyed their sleepovers with your offspring). Knowing that your wife was with Angela just before and after the end has been an enormous comfort to me. From that shitty catastrophic day in July, to now, has been quite an experience."

He chuckled. "I can see why some people use the expression 'journey'. But Cynthia, Maria, Albert and I are coping OK and we are – actually, despite everything - looking forward to Christmas. Let's face it, 2006 can only be better than this accursed year. Cheerio!"

Andrew wasn't quite looking where he was going as he looked over his shoulder to bid Harm farewell; he turned away from Harm and walked around the corner, straight into – a tall dark-haired woman in a double-breasted jacket with bright buttons and with the rings of her rank on her sleeve cuffs.

She dropped her briefcase in the aftermath of the impact, across the toe of her left foot causing her to wince and exclaim. He gasped and fell to his knees in front of her; afterwards, Harm would tell Terri that the poor guy literally looked as though he had seen a ghost – five months on from his wife's death in the Tube train on 7/7.

" _Oh Jesus Christ - Angela?_ "

The face above him broke into a warm if enigmatic smile and a hand, with neatly-manicured nails, was extended downwards to him. As he took the hand and the woman hauled him back up off the floor (leaning back on her heels but raising him to her eye level in one smooth movement), a lovely warm American voice responded to his exclamation as she looked across to Harm.

"No, not Jesus Christ Angela; rather I'm Faith Coleman, USN JAG Corps. I think I am pleased that you ran into me, although my toes may have a different opinion!" Then she gasped as she looked into Andrew's eyes and registered the horror-struck expression on his face. She turned back to Harm, gesturing to Andrew to confirm that she was expecting an introduction.

"Oh sorry Faith. Faith Coleman, meet Andrew Burridge. Andrew – this is my colleague Faith Coleman from the DC branch of JAG in Falls Church. In fact she replaced me in Falls Church when I shipped over here in April".

Harm suddenly realised that he was talking to himself. The atmosphere in the room was focussed on the two people shaking hands in front of him. It was as though the air was being sucked out of the room. They were staring – deeply - into each other's eyes.

And thus the first strands of a new love story began to be woven; this event would ensure that 2005 would end on a very positive note for two lonely single parents.

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 26 - "A Christmas meeting" (part 43)**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Next Chapter will follow in around a month, in early July.**

 **Mike, England, 11-June-2019**


	27. An early Christmas present

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 27 - part 44)**

 **Summary: this is a fictional story, in a fictional (slightly) Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005.** It involves a minor diversion from canon in April 1998 and strikes out in a new direction in 2005 after the final Season Ten episode "Fair Winds and Following Seas".

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed. My thanks to "Syrae", my beta-reader.

 **A/N:** Ch 27: Harm continues his FJAG duties in Naples. He and Terri prepare to welcome their third child. Faith Coleman's love life regenerates and a widower proves that love *can* come around a third time...

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 27 of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" - "An early Christmas present"**

 **A/N Publication date 01-Jul-2019** : ...and now, on with Chapter 27: Following their accidental meeting in the US Embassy in London, Faith and Andrew begin to explore a friendship. Terri and Harm's third child gets closer to making its appearance.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 27 - Part 44 - "An early Christmas present"**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 19th December 2005, 17:29hrs GMT**

 **Private meetings suite, Embassy of the United States of America to the Court of St James,** **24 Grosvenor Square** , **London** , **W1K 6AH**

"So Andrew, you are looking great and it has been inspiring to hear how you and your family have been recovering since July; I wish you a wonderful Christmas".

"Thanks Harm- and thanks for getting the confirmation through your Visa section. I must also say that you and Terri have been part of the recovery. Just having someone to chat with occasionally has been useful to me. Knowing that your wife was with Angela just before and after the end has been an enormous comfort to me. From that shitty catastrophic day in July, to now, has been quite an experience."

He chuckled. "I can see why some people use the expression 'journey'. But Cynthia, Maria, Albert and I are coping OK and we are – actually, despite everything - looking forward to Christmas. Let's face it, 2006 can only be better than this accursed year. Cheerio!"

Andrew wasn't quite looking where he was going as he looked over his shoulder to bid Harm farewell; he turned away from Harm and walked around the corner, straight into a tall dark-haired woman in a double-breasted jacket with bright buttons and with the rings of her rank on her sleeve cuffs.

She dropped her briefcase in the aftermath of the impact, across the toe of her left foot causing her to wince and exclaim. He gasped and fell to his knees in front of her; afterwards, Harm would tell Terri that the poor guy literally looked as though he had seen a ghost.

" _Oh Jesus Christ - Angela?_ "

The face above him broke into a warm if enigmatic smile and a hand was extended downwards to him. As he took the hand and the woman hauled him back up off the floor, a lovely warm American voice responded to his exclamation as she looked across to Harm.

"No, not Jesus Christ Angela. Faith Coleman, USN JAG Corps. I think I am pleased that you ran into me, although my toes may have a different opinion!" Then she gasped as she looked into Andrew's eyes and registered the horror-struck expression on his face. She turned back to Harm, gesturing to Andrew to confirm that she was expecting an introduction.

"Oh sorry, Faith. Faith Coleman, meet Andrew Burridge. Andrew – this is my colleague Faith Coleman from the DC branch of JAG in Falls Church."

Harm suddenly realised that he was talking to himself. The atmosphere in the room was focussed on the two people shaking hands in front of him. It was as though the air was being sucked out of the room.

And thus the first strands of a new love story began to be woven, ensuring that 2005 would end on a very positive note for two lonely single parents.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

Andrew was the first to break the silence. "It is my great pleasure to meet you. My apologies for my reaction, but you bear an uncanny resemblance to my late wife Angela who was murdered in the Tube bombings on 7/7."

Faith looked across, mystified, at Harm. Both her eyebrows were still arched in curiosity.

He explained. "Faith, it was widespread news across Europe but may not have been given such prominence in the US media; there were four bombs, three on the London Underground (they call it 'The Tube' over here in London) and one on a red bus, back on the morning of July 7th. The bad guys killed 52 and injured seven hundred and some-odd. It has become known as London's '7/7' akin to our '9/11' and the people are mourned, over here, just as strongly as we do those people who were lost in NYC."

Harm shuddered involuntarily before continuing. "Angela was just five paces ahead of Teresa that morning; she got on the train whereas Teresa was locked out and left behind on the platform as the doors closed". He held up his thumb and forefinger, slightly apart. "I came that close to also losing my wife. Terri was first on scene in the carriage to render assistance but Angela was, sadly, beyond saving. So we have formed a bond with Andrew and his three children."

Harm suddenly noticed – just as Andrew realised – that Faith and Andrew were still holding hands.

Andrew released Faith's hand and looked quizzically at her. "Well Faith, whilst it has been a pleasure to be introduced to you after the embarrassment of bumping into you, might I offer to buy you a coffee by way of a proper apology?" He'd momentarily dropped back into the stereotypical " _polite British_ " manner when greeting strangers.

She smiled – a rare, full-radiance, _reserved-for-special-occasions_ smile. "Andrew, the apology is not necessary for a moment. So, yes please definitely, I would very much like to join you for a coffee."

She turned to Harm as she straightened her jacket and brushed her hand across her skirt. "Harm, I am going to look after Andrew here. Would you mind letting my troublesome twosome know that their mentoring class is dismissed for tonight and I'll resume at 0830hrs tomorrow, please? They're both working down in B57. Tell them that their homework is the next sample case in their folders."

Harm nodded and smiled. "Organised as always, Commander Coleman! Of course; it will be my pleasure to pass on your message. Have fun kiddies". Harm excused himself and left Faith and Andrew alone in the corridor.

Andrew looked into Faith's eyes once more and smiled. "As this building is your home turf and I am only an occasional visitor to the Embassy, please lead on and let's find some coffee. Outside, you will be on *my* turf."

"Well, it shames me to admit this as an American, standing as we are inside my embassy, but the best coffee in the British Isles is actually outside the building in one of the side streets."

She gestured to her uniform – part of the image which had so shocked Andrew just five minutes earlier. "Look, Andrew. Apart from the fact that you looked like you had seen a ghost (and I really *do* want you to explain that, believe me!), our SOPs prohibit us ordinarily from walking outside in uniform, so if I deposit you in Reception would you please grant me ten minutes to change out of this into my warmer civvies and secure my papers? I have a change of outfit in my Visiting Officer suite along the corridor."

Andrew was definitely in no rush for this "brief encounter" to end.

"Faith: if it would help you, please take 15 minutes! I can check in with my children, let them know I shall be late and then update them whilst you change. The _au-pair_ will sort out their food, because I usually set Monday evenings aside as time for me."

She nodded. "Sounds like a deal; let me escort you down to reception first to keep our Marine guards happy."

Just a quarter-hour later, Andrew turned in response to the tapping of heels across the marbled floor of the Embassy reception area. Then he looked again, this time more closely and with interest!

Faith presented a completely different picture to the squared-away, buttoned-down US Navy JAG officer whom he had bumped into a mere 20 minutes earlier. Her hair had been released from its regulation bun and brushed back into a long ponytail. Her neck-tab and uniform jacket had been removed, with her uniform trousers replaced with a charcoal grey knee-length skirt over high-heeled knee-length black boots.

Faith, completely transformation into civilian attire, came to a stand in front of Andrew and brought her heels together with a click. A light grey raincoat lay over her arm and a bright red silk scarf was delicately knotted around her slim throat. Her uniform handbag hung from her shoulder.

"Wow!" was the only sound to escape his mouth at first.

Faith looked at him in amusement. Arching an eyebrow, she quipped "That, I shall take it, is an approval?"

He nodded dumbly. Although he could now clearly see the differences, this woman standing before him did definitely bear quite a strong resemblance to his deceased wife. He smiled once more.

Keen to continue breaking the ice, she crooked her arm, inviting him to link arms with her. They headed out into the dark of the winter evening, pausing only to hand in his visitor pass to the Marine security detail inside the entrance.

Heading along South Audley Street, they began in the little coffee shop. Over coffee the conversation began, covering pain and loss. She realised that Andrew's wounds regarding Angela were still raw, but Faith detected the beginning signs of the formation of scabs over the wounds and a positive, forward-looking approach to life once more.

Faith was beginning to consider that this stranger might also understand loss, her loss of liberty, fear, optimism and – above all - hope. She had a strong feeling of comfort and contentment, sitting across the table from this man.

" _This man has been through hell – twice – and yet he still has a positive outlook on life_."

Coffees finished, Faith leaned across the table and took Andrew's hand. "Andrew, I am going to be a little forward here – blame my brash American stereotype if you like! As you are probably realising, I cannot compete (in terms of experience) against a man who has been married twice. But I am becoming certain that I want to know more about you – and to tell you more about me. Look, although I have to fly back to DC tomorrow afternoon, I shall be back later in January. I'll be coming back to support the junior officers whom I am mentoring and to be around to help Terri Rabb as she is due to give birth to her third child. Do you think that we could plan to meet again in January?"

"Oh yes please, Faith; that would give me great satisfaction. We could really only scratch the surface today over coffee." He leaned forward. "And let me state, for the record counsellor, that we should *never* compete on experiences. This could be far too important for both of us". He sat back, leaving his hand on the table where Faith was idly linking her fingers with his. He had the most incredible sense of anticipation about the younger woman sitting opposite.

She made up her mind on the spot (something that the "old" Faith Coleman would never have done) to strike whilst they both felt attracted and comfortable with one another. She looked into his eyes once more, continuing to hold his hand.

"Well then Andrew, why don't we start this very evening? Look, might I steal you away to my hotel and buy you a meal this evening? Then – later on - I need to phone my kids at the end of the school day in the US and then get ready for tomorrow. But I definitely *would* like to learn more about you as well as to explain in more detail about me and what happened to me so perhaps you will be able to understand the way that I am."

"That would be simply wonderful on a cold Monday evening. But if – at any time – it gets too painful, just say – deal?"

Faith nodded eagerly, then drained her coffee cup and looked at him, smiling expectantly.

As they rose to head out onto the street, Andrew began – for the first time since Angela's death five months earlier – to believe that something good was coming his way. Faith flashed a reassuring smile at him and then they strolled, once more arm in arm, around the square to the Marriott.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 19th December 2005, 18:52hrs BST**

 **The Bar, Marriott Hotel Grosvenor Square; London W1K 6JP, UK**

On arrival, Faith popped briefly up to her room, to shed her coat and boots then she slipped on a blazer heels and re-tied the red silk scarf at her throat. Meanwhile, Andrew took the opportunity to check in again at home with Cynthia and to confirm that all was well with her younger siblings. Cynthia was able to report that Maria and Albert were hard at work on their homework and the _au-pair_ was preparing their evening meal as planned.

Reassured, both parents headed into the restaurant. Faith started on an orange juice whilst he selected a G&T. He was beginning to realise (from some hints dropped by Faith) that she only rarely consented to lose control. He was guessing that this related to some historical wrong that had been committed against the lovely lady sitting across the table from him. He desperately hoped that she would eventually trust him enough to open up and let him know what had happened to her. He really liked what he saw in her, but it was clear that she had a back-story.

He worried that her back-story might be inhibiting her from becoming any more open and friendly than simple politeness required. But then, why had she decisively moved on beyond the platonic coffee meeting just now within an hour of first meeting him? He was confused, but he definitely hoped for more – the collision might well have been Angela's mischievous spirit playing a joke on him.

"Faith, I am guessing that both of us have been through some trauma – from the way you reacted when Harm told you about my wife's murder. You may – or may not – wish to discuss your dark experiences, but would it help if I told you about mine? Equally, I could chat all evening in the company of a wonderful, lively lady who is intriguing, keeping things light: and nice shoes, by the way".

"You know Andrew, that is the most polite and supportive method of open questioning that anyone has ever used on me. And you'll learn, if you spend time around Harmon Rabb and Navy lawyers, that we women in JAG have a saying."

She paused; he took the bait. "Well…?"

" _All we want is a good man, a good career and lots of shoes (comfortable or otherwise)_." She looked down at the three-inch spikes which she now wore. "I'm just breaking these in – it was an impulse buy on Saturday evening on Long Acre. Since I was abducted, I like wearing heels when I am out and off-duty."

She stopped, her chin paused coquettishly in a pointed finger, her eyes full of warmth as she watched him squirm. "So, do you really wish to know more about me and to continue the interrogation?"

He put his hands up immediately in a gesture of apology. "Oh yes, definitely – but never by way of an interrogation! I wasn't meaning to…."

She stopped him with a smile and a hand placed on his forearm, then she laughed warmly. "Relax. Apart from psychologists and a *very* small circle of friends including Harm and Teresa, I haven't opened up to anyone ' _on the outside_ ' so to speak. So kindly allow me to start. Be assured that I definitely *do* also want to hear your story and to learn about your Angela – OK?"

He nodded and relaxed, waiting with a reassuring smile on his face, before he responded.

"Actually, yes, I would very much like to know more. My emotions are still all over the floor, but I am certain that women have played a supremely important part in my life thus far. So, female companionship isn't an aspect of my life that I would want to give up voluntarily."

He paused and looked at her for affirmation. "I *do* hope that didn't seem too strong?"

She straightened her shoulders and looked at him across the table. "Andrew, what a beautiful statement. I think I know what you mean. Now, you are the first stranger to whom I have told this story, apart from everyone and everybody during my recovery. I guess, from what Harm said back in the Embassy and what you have just hinted at now, that you have had a truly appalling year? Well, mine began on the evening of Valentine's Day in 2002. I was out with colleagues to celebrate the end of a course and I foolishly let my guard down….."

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 **Monday 19th December 2005, 19:21hrs BST**

 **The Bar, Marriott Hotel Grosvenor Square; London W1K 6JP, UK**

Half an hour later Andrew sat, appalled, as Faith finished outlining the heartrending story of her capture and the torment of her ordeal. Just like Harm beforehand, he was disgusted that a fellow inadequate male could inflict such a degrading experience on any woman. He was horrified that the criminal had inflicted this on all the other women whom he had kidnapped, used and then simply murdered and discarded before Faith fell into his snare.

"So I woke up some time later, place unknown, naked apart from a thin nightdress and with cuffs welded around my wrists and a thick rusty collar welded around my neck. It really messed with my OCD. Apart from a nightdress, the collar and cuffs were basically my complete attire until I was rescued in the December."

"And yet you look quite relaxed, Faith. I would never use the term 'OCD' to describe you having just met you today."

"Funny you should say that! My friends who knew me before the kidnap would tell you about the ' _little OCD robot Faith Coleman_ ', who would sit with her knees, hips, arms and elbows at precisely 90 degrees." She chuckled: "The kidnapper definitely loosened me up – I had no choice, because my body *had* to adapt to the growing baby inside. No, sadly he marked me in several other ways as well."

Andrew looked her over, then looked quizzically at her.

She gestured to the bright silk scarf around her throat. "The heavy metal collar has actually left a mark in my skin. Although the rusty mark has faded, there is a piece of hard skin where the rough edge of the collar wore against me constantly."

" **Bastard.** " The involuntary oath escaped Andrew's lips.

"Yes indeed. It is normally concealed by my uniform collar. But when I open the collar of my blouses I am slightly self-conscious about it and I need to hide it." She shrugged. "At least I could afford plastic surgery; however, cutting me would, I feel, let him win." She waved her bare fingers. "For the same reason, I didn't remove the 'wedding' ring until the sentencing hearing at the end of the trial. It was another part of his perversion – he marked all his victims with a ring."

Andrew was outraged. "But that wasn't his right. A marriage is a conscious decision, freely entered into. Man and wife exchange rings as a token of love and to seal the contract. At least, both Catherine and Angela did with me. What was this muppet thinking when he enslaved you? What happened to the ring?"

Andrew was amazed that Faith seemed so well-balanced after what had happened to her.

She smiled guiltily. "I threw it back at him and caught him just on the eyelid at the end of sentencing – it was *so* satisfying!"

They both laughed, before she continued her story.

"But amazingly he was a Brit, as the investigators discovered as they tracked me down prior to rescuing me. So I am still on the search for a truly decent Brit!" She smiled, slightly provocatively, prompting a matching grin from Andrew.

Faith paused, partway through her tale, took a slurp of the white wine in her glass and then continued, moving into the darker phase of her captivity.

The dam had broken and she wanted to share her experience; the man seated opposite her was probably the best, understanding, damaged non-professional with whom she could ever hope to meet. For a moment, she wondered if one of her "spiritual sisters" (probably the spirit of Alison Krennick, she surmised) was lining her up with Andrew for some kind of ghostly joke.

"… so my captivity continued and, somewhere in the late summer I reckon, he broke me. I had no sense of time, or day or night, or hope. Eventually, my spirit gave out and I started thinking about ways to kill myself. But just then, the morning sickness started. I had always only ever thought of just myself. Just me, my apartment, my Jeep, my clothes, my shoe collection, my career, my vacations, because that way I was in control of my life. The previous year's relationship with my Marine was mainly for my pleasures - although he obviously enjoyed the transaction as well."

She sipped more wine before ploughing onwards. "The pregnancy prevented me from taking my own life; I just couldn't kill what I thought was the unborn child growing within me. It was weird to realise that I was pregnant, because I had been celibate for over a year when I was kidnapped and I did not remember the impregnation. So when my twins were born in February 2003, after my rescue, I was embarrassed to have to admit that I was still quite inexperienced when it came to love. But that is what the bastard did to his victims – he created sets of male and female embryos from his sperm and the captive woman's eggs, then he implanted them back into the victim."

Tears welled in her eyes: "And then the bastard just killed them after around six months. Each time, he killed a mother and two babies in every single case, apart from one poor woman who had recovered from cancer treatment and was therefore no use to his perverted experiments. He just slaughtered her and dumped her body in a shallow grave in the woods outside his lair."

She paused, considering her next words. She stretched her hand out to Andrew, caressing the wedding ring which he still wore in memory of Angela. Her extensive post-liberation therapy had helped, but she knew that she was still a " _work in progress_ " – and yet she wasn't fazed by that description. She had been re-born in that mineshaft and she would continue to grasp life with both hands. She needed to hear Andrew's story.

She decided to throw caution to the wind. Heck, what was the worst that could happen – a rejection? All these thoughts crowded in briefly before she raised her eyes and looked directly into his.

"Andrew, I believe that, now and probably for some time to come, I can only relate – personally or emotionally – to someone who has gone though some form of traumatic experience just as I have. That may limit my hopes for future relationships, however I believe that you could be that type of person to continue my healing. Might I see you again, please, at some time in the new year when I return to the UK?"

He was already nodding enthusiastically, with a broad smile on his face. He turned his hand over and grasped her fingers gently to give her an instant answer.

She probed further, to reassure herself now that she had opened up her shield and that she had interpreted his reply correctly.

"Really – that is what you would like for 2006?"

He nodded again, mute with emotion. In return, she simply nodded and smiled warmly, continuing to caress his hand.

He realised that Faith was – completely unconsciously – gently stroking the side of his calf muscle with the pointed toe of her shoe. Although the woman seated opposite him was obviously quite tense (hardly surprising given the story and her experiences that she had related to him), he was reassured that – based on the under-table communication – she was clearly feeling relaxed and confident in his presence. He felt so proud that she had felt confident enough to open up and share some of her inner pain with him.

" _Is this too good to be true – am I dreaming_?"

He surreptitiously dropped his free hand under the table and pinched himself; " _No, this is real. Thank you Lord for this evening and might I please have some more?"_

He smiled again. "Faith, I definitely would want us to do more together – at any timing of your choosing". He raised his glass: "To new beginnings, openness and whatever 2006 may bring us".

Faith agreed wholeheartedly and touched glasses with him.

"And now, it is only fair that I begin to open up further to you. Angela wasn't my first wife. My first wife – Cynthia's mum – died of an aggressive tumour when Cynthia was only two years old. That tore me up but a year later I met Angela at Heathrow and we hit it off; five years later we were married. Then Maria - followed later by Albert - came along to give us a complete Anglo-American family. Angela took to Cynthia like she was her own and I know that Harm has been proud of Terri taking to Mattie. We never had any examples of the problems that you hear about sometimes in "second wife" families. Everyone got on well and, over time, the family unit rebuilt itself."

Faith thought back through the story. "Cynthia is a very unusual name in this day and age – was it a family name?"

"Nope, Catherine was simply an enthusiastic fan of John Lennon from the Beatles. So, as she had done the hard work in the maternity room, I gave her free rein on the naming of our first-born. I am proud of the name she chose, because Cynthia is distinctive amongst the ' _Chardonnay and Sharon_ ' generation of kids in today's classrooms."

He continued. "And then, meeting Angela was a sheer fluke at Heathrow, yet we just clicked and the marriage was a good one."

He paused. "Faith, the problem that I have now, apart from finding a woman mad enough to take on three existing children, is that my proposition of ' _would you consent to be my third wife, but you know about Catherine and Angela and their fates_ ' might not find favour."

Faith just nodded and smiled reassuringly; she definitely wanted to know more.

He paused, as events rose into his memory. "And then we got to 7/7". He stopped, eyes streaming as he reached for a handkerchief with his free hand. Once he had mopped his eyes, Faith moved her wine glass and reached out for his hand with both her hands, looking deep into his eyes and nodding reassuringly, encouraging him to continue. They stayed that way for a while.

Eventually he was able to continue; she had waited patiently, knowing that the two of them were sharing some precious innermost secrets. They were building confidences, in a potential future relationship between two damaged people. He looked up at her, further unshed tears pooling in his eyes.

"Faith, just one word of caution. I believe that you can't compete with a ghost. A ghost is nearly perfect, she never changes and never ages and she improves with the passing of time, because you remember the good and you naturally forget the bad and tearful things. Let's face it: you sure as hell cannot compete with *two* ghosts. So I just want to say, here and now at the start of whatever wonderful things may happen between us, that this relationship will not be overshadowed by people from the past. Memories and events from the past: yes, obviously. But not the ghosts of previous people. We should look forward and I would very much hope to look forward side-by-side with you."

She smiled – a beautiful, open, eye-wrinkling smile, as she caressed his hands once more and simply said "Me too."

"Come on, let's eat; I'm starving."

They made the short journey across to the hotel restaurant in a very companionable silence, once more strolling arm-in-arm.

It would be some time later before they parted ways after both eagerly promised to meet again. Faith headed up to her suite whilst the concierge hailed a cab for Andrew.

He had an interesting – no, correction: a stunningly amazing - story to tell his kids when he returned home to Baker Street.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 19th December 2005, 22:38hrs BST**

 **Suite 602, Marriott Hotel Grosvenor Square; London W1K 6JP, UK**

" _Hi babies, Mommy has some news once you have told her about your day in school."_

With a Bluetooth earpiece connected wirelessly to her cell phone, Faith walked around her suite as she began her phone call to the States. She was eager and ready to listen to her children's excited chatter, gathered around the speakerphone in the kitchen as they prepared for their afternoon tea in the USA.

Although Daniel and Hope had not yet reached their third birthdays, they were lively little "chatterboxes" and she had encouraged them to develop their personalities. So far, there was no sign of their behaviour descending into the " _terrible twos_ " chaos which afflicted some parents – especially when twins could encourage each other in bad behaviour!

The conversation bubbled along happily for some time, as Faith strolled around the suite, packing up used clothing for the laundry and preparing her civilian outfit for the next day's walk across to the embassy and, later, the flight home to DC at the end of the day. She had kept her shoes on after returning to the suite after the meal with Andrew. The " _comfortable shoes_ " part of the female JAG mantra included the proviso " _after they are broken in_." The stroll around the hotel with Andrew had been ideal for the purpose. She danced around the room in her underwear and heels, just for her own secret guilty pleasure.

It was something that the former, straight-laced, buttoned down Faith Coleman would never have considered doing. But now, the liberated post-captivity Lady Faith was proud of her body and she enjoyed exercising in her room – not just pounding along the exercise trails back home.

The Tiger was out of her cage – and she loved her new freedom and her new friendship.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 19th December 2005, 23:03hrs BST**

 **Suite 602, Marriott Hotel Grosvenor Square; London W1K 6JP, UK**

Eventually she bade her children a fond farewell, checked a few points with her au-pair and then terminated the call. She slid off her shoes and pulled a dressing gown over her underwear and stockings.

The shoes were dusted with a clean cloth, wrapped and placed alongside her suitcase, from which she dug out her polishing kit. Faith had always maintained a good shine on her footwear with her military background, but recently she had spent a little more time polishing, listening to the radio or watching the TV; it was quite therapeutic and very relaxing. She had learned this from listening to Carolyn Imes when several of the female JAG commanders had enjoyed a spa day earlier in the summer, catching up with Carolyn in her post-JAG civilian role. It was quite clear that Tracy Manetti had learned that Carolyn had taken care and pride in her uniform whilst she was serving. Faith had realised that several of the JAG women were always better turned-out than the men, so she had started to make that extra effort to shine.

She listened to the weather forecast on the radio as she finished off her task.

The weather forecast for tomorrow was dry but cold, so she had decided to keep her boots out for the cold-weather walk across to the embassy, even though she had a trouser-suit organised for the next day and her flight home the next evening. The heel height would keep the hem of her trousers clear of any dust and mud on the London pavements. Her winter coat would cover everything else in terms of warmth. Another coat of polish would help protect her purchase as she walked to the embassy. Just occasionally, Faith liked to joke with her colleagues that "the Android" still went back into her cleaning/re-charging pod at night, emerging in the morning gleaming and ready for the world.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

She knew, for certain, that "the robot" was dead, broken, smashed and gone, then resurrected in human form deep inside a coal-dust-laden hell-hole in West Virginia.

Sometimes, she shivered at the changes which she had undergone in the four years since that fateful Valentines night when He had captured her and taken her prisoner.

She was glad to be alive – and so, she realised, was Andrew. Yes, there were definitely possibilities in that lonely, positive-attitude, wonderfully-optimistic widower. Three years on from her rescue in West Virginia, she realised that she was, perhaps, ready for human companionship. Her children were settled and bright as buttons; her job at JAG was going well. She decided that she would call him tomorrow.

Last thing, she checked in online for her flight back to DC as she drank her cup of hot chocolate. The boarding pass would be printed out at the embassy in the morning. Her hotel checkout would be efficiently handled and she was already thinking of things to do once she arrived back home into DC. The Wednesday morning activities with her children, just four days before Christmas, would reinforce the feeling of "homecoming". She had dropped into Hamley's toyshop on Regent Street on the Saturday afternoon, after she had arrived in the UK and checked into the Marriott. Two wrapped presents for each of her offspring lay securely packaged in one of her suitcases, along with a present for her British nanny (Annabelle's standing order to her boss was "s _ome decent tea, every time, please!_ ").

Faith enjoyed the occasional journey away from home, but normally her children acted as a very comforting anchor drawing her back, encouraging her back to "home" – the previously-mythical concept which " _the little robot"_ had never truly understood before unexpectedly being inducted into the "Motherhood Hall of Fame" without her consent.

She would never, now, believe that she briefly regretted discovering that she was pregnant in that hell-hole. Never would she have believed that motherhood could be so fulfilling – and yet she had no problems with carrying out that new role alongside her "day job". She just took everything in her stride – a discovery which had surprised her as she realised that "the job" was not the entirety of her life.

Faith had genuinely impressed herself, surprised by how well she had taken on the expanded workload of motherhood, whilst expanding her professional duties to step up and cover for Harmon Rabb when he had left Falls Church for the UK. She now saw no obstacles to a continuing and satisfyingly-long career in the US Navy.

She was acknowledged as the "go-to" JAG for Maritime Law and as the dependable source of information on International law.

Her third ring promotion earlier in 2005 before her 37th birthday had boosted her confidence significantly, which was one of the reasons why she put so much of her own time into mentoring her underlings. Her mantra was: " _Pay it forward._ "

Tonight's encounter with Andrew, hearing about his wives and learning about his children – who were obviously the centre of his life now – had caused her to begin to think about not spending the rest of her life alone. That had been her knee-jerk plan after her captivity, her rescue and the long (and very painful) recovery which followed. During her therapy, she had encountered crippling bouts of self-doubt:

" _Who would want me – I'm damaged goods._ "

" _Couldn't even protect myself in a public place_."

Several of the thoughts which she had dealt with during her long therapy and convalescence came back into play. One – in particular – made her draw breath.

" _If no-one gets close, no-one can hurt me._ "

Suddenly, she thought of Loren Singer, whose tragic demise almost three years earlier had led people to the subsequent discovery and realisation that the spiky, shrewish, closed-off Lieutenant might merely have been protecting her self-interest after a failed love affair. No-one had known for sure about Loren, but Faith had learned that lesson after her rescue and was going to apply it in her life.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

Now, she was wondering if there was more to life than she had ever experienced before – and, if so, how she could tap into it. Once more, she realised that the Navy (and private) psychologists had done a wonderful job in putting her back together.

It had been hard work – painful and gruelling and raw on many occasions, she would freely admit. But maybe, just maybe, this encounter with Andrew was her next step in blossoming as a free woman.

Three years of recovery was enough, she decided.

Andrew obviously had (potentially) offered her a way forward. Whilst his pain at Angela's murder on "7/7" was evidently still raw, he clearly had an optimistic view that " _wife number three_ " was somewhere out there waiting for him, if only he could find her. She smiled at his unshakeable belief in the goodness of the wider human race and then she considered her domestic arrangements.

Her live-in nanny in the USA had provided excellent support whilst Faith had re-started her working life and continued her recovery from the dark experiences of her captivity. Her children wanted for nothing and Faith ensured that "lots of hugs" were included every day. Faith always spent plenty of time with her children before any upcoming trips away, preparing them each time for her quarterly trips to Europe. They were settled and secure in their family unit, they understood military duty and they realised that their mommy had to leave them sometimes. They were also certain that Mommy would always come back.

Perhaps it was time to compare notes with Terri Coulter-Rabb, who had clearly combined military duty with Government work and being a stellar mom to her children.

Andrew's positive approach to life – despite everything that had befallen him – had encouraged Faith to consider thinking about a relationship. This would be a major change for her, as she continued to heal from her brutal captivity. Even so, she had very little fear – another aspect of her rebirth after the captivity. But was she ready? Nearly four years on from the kidnap, three years on from her liberation and the subsequent healing, she actually believed that now was the time. As she settled into her hotel bed, Faith decided to catch up with Terri as soon as she could – she would definitely hook up on her next trip to London.

Her final conscious thought that night, as she thought once more of Andrew, was that he had – very clearly – stated that he did not hate the bombers " _because if you give in to hate and division, then the arseholes have won – and that is *not* what my country is about_."

Faith quickly drifted off to sleep, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

However, in Bryanston Square that evening, events had transpired in a manner which was about to interfere with Harm and Terri's Christmas schedule.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 19th December 2005, 19:32hrs BST**

 **Home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

" _Hi honey, you are never going to guess what happened in the Embassy this evening!_ "

Harm couldn't wait to relay the news to Terri as he closed the front door and shrugged off his overcoat. He was so pleased that their friend Faith had – suddenly, unexpectedly and, of all places, in London – met someone unaware of her past and in whom she seemed genuinely interested. The fact that Andrew Burridge might have met his " _potential third wife_ " just five months after the tragedy of 7/7 merely confirmed their long-held view that " _God has a weird sense of humour_." He hung up his overcoat and planned to head for the kitchen to put the kettle on, dropping into the lounge as he walked past.

He got no further.

When no-one came to greet him in the hallway, he strolled expectantly into the lounge to greet his family. Mattie was kneeling alongside Terri on the settee, holding her hand. Terri was stretched out on the settee, with her other hand holding her swollen waist. Her face was twisted in discomfort.

"Hi Tomcat, welcome home. I'm getting odd twinges and this ain't right. I think we need to call the hospital but I wanted you safely home before we did. **_Aaaah, sheesh_**!"

She stiffened as a muscle spasm ripped through her abdomen. Then she smiled and relaxed as she realised what was happening.

"Ah shoot – that's a definite contraction! OK folks, time for the hospital. Harm, this baby ain't gonna wait for 40 weeks and the Christmas turkey! She's on her way!"

Mattie was already reaching for the little hospital go-bag from the study….

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 27 - "A Christmas present" (part 44** **)**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Next Chapter will follow in around a month, in early August. My plan is monthly chapters until the end of 2019.**

 **Mike, England, 01-July-2019**


	28. Special Christmas Delivery

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 28 - part 45)**

 **Summary: this is a fictional story, in a fictional (slightly) Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005.** It involves a minor diversion from canon in April 1998 and strikes out in a new direction in 2005 after the final Season Ten episode "Fair Winds and Following Seas".

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed. My thanks to "Syrae", my beta-reader.

 **A/N:** Ch 28: Harm and Terri welcome their third child together.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 28 of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" – "Special Christmas present"**

 **A/N Publication date 01-Aug-2019** : ...and now, on with Chapter 28: Terri's new baby arrives a little early, so Christmas in London at the Coulter-Rabb household is chaotic and joyous. This chapter was modified on 28-07-2019 to incorporate the first revision following a review by "NWMariposa"; Ch29 (due in early September) will reflect a further revision.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 28 - Part 45 - "Special Christmas Delivery"**

 **Saturday 19th December 2005, 19:32hrs BST**

 **Home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

" _Hi honey, you are never going to guess what happened in the Embassy this evening!_ "

Harm couldn't wait to relay the news to Terri as he closed the front door and shrugged off his overcoat. He was so pleased that their friend Faith had – unexpectedly and, of all places, in London – met someone unaware of her past and in whom she had seemed genuinely interested.

The fact that Andrew Burridge appeared to be similarly smitten with Faith merely confirmed his long-held view that " _God has a weird sense of humour_." He hung up his overcoat and planned to head for the kitchen to put the kettle on, dropping into the lounge as he walked past. When no-one came to greet him in the hallway, he strolled expectantly into the lounge to greet his family.

He got no further. He found a note on the floor.

"Hi Tomcat, welcome home. I called your office but you had left. I'm getting odd twinges and this ain't right. I've taken a taxi to the hospital and Mattie is looking after the little ones. I've asked my Dad to come back early from the charity meeting. Please join me at the hospital to welcome number three. Harm, this baby ain't gonna wait for 40 weeks and the Christmas turkey! She's on her way! Love, Terri."

A brief discussion with David and Ellie coincided with the arrival of Grandpa Chaddock to take charge of the little ones; Terri was quite clear that a labour ward is no place for young children.

Harm explained the situation to his children. Thomas stood ready to take the little ones upstairs to bed whenever the excitement (or their tiredness levels) got the better of them. He stood quietly in the background, supping a coffee and awaiting the summons to slip back into "Grandpa Thomas" mode.

He surveyed the joyful family scene in front of him, rejoicing that the reversal of his conviction had enabled him to share these experiences with his family after reconnecting with his Teresa.

"Harm, go be with your wife; I've got this, here in the house."

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 19th December 2005, 20:23hrs BST**

 **Maternity Unit; University College Hospital**

 **25 Grafton Way, Fitzrovia, London WC1E** **6DB**

"Good evening Mrs Rabb, welcome to the birthing team. I understand from your records that you are a couple of weeks early?" The chief nurse was busy filling in details on her clipboard.

"Yeah, about three weeks early. Mind you, my previous two didn't hang around either, and they are both annoyingly healthy."

"Well, that bodes well for your delivery tonight. You are especially lucky tonight, because Monday nights are 'Mister Mike' nights."

"Go on, I'll bite – who is Mister Mike?"

"Oh, you'll love him. He's our most experienced consultant obstetrician, so you are in very good hands. He's about two years off retirement, so he has been building up his firm to hand over to the next generation. He always covers Monday afternoons into the night. You'd be best-suited to Doctor Kate, but unfortunately she went into labour on December 1st and we don't expect her back until February".

The nurse brightened. "But hey, you get Doctor mini-Kate as a bonus."

By this point, Terri was beginning to wonder if she had inadvertently walked through a cloud of invisible anaesthetic gas! "Mini-Kate? Didn't think that this was the 'Austin Powers Maternity Ward'! What the…"

"I'll explain later, but both Mister Mike and Doctor mini-Kate are excellent; that's all you need to know for now. I'll explain Austin Powers later – honest!"

Terri's laughter was constrained by her next contraction and her head was hurting with all the jokes and good humour, but she figured she was in good hands. It was clear that all the nursing staff rated the doctors highly and were loyally devoted to the consultant who ran the department.

"OK, would someone find my husband and get him to get off the phone; I need him in here."

Just as she finished her complaint, Harm skidded to a halt in the room. Husband and wife were now united and ready for the birth.

Thomas Chaddock had quietly sent Harm a text message, reassuring him that the younger children were safely tucked up in bed. Harm could slide into the delivery room, knowing that the other half of his family were safe in the home back at Bryanston Square.

Terri did not look very relaxed, lying on a delivery table. "Harm, let's just wait until Mister Mike has seen me – I understand from the nurses here that he is pretty good at predicting labour and it may help us working out timings for the rest of the night so we can update our little ones back at home. Personally as a qualified doctor I doubt this mythical prediction skill, but let's see - the human body is a miraculous thing that does its own thing."

"Seriously, Terri? In DC, they have millions of bucks' worth of kit and no-one can ever be sure of delivery."

A warm, friendly voice boomed out from just behind Harm, silencing his gripes instantly.

"Well then sir, that is in the Colonies; back here in Merry Old England we've been doing this a lot longer than you colonials and we find that we have a better handle; that's just the way it is. Of course, you are welcome to fly back across the Pond to DC and your ' _millions of bucks of kit_ ', but I reckon that your missus would be 'pissed at you' for inconveniencing her."

Harm turned around, to meet a rotund six-footer with very little grey hair left above a warm, confident smile and a day of grey stubble on his chin. A pair of reading glasses dangled from a chain around the man's neck and he wore a set of scrubs. The eyes twinkled with cheery optimism. Harm had met the type before in the military. It was a personality which thrived on the battlefield and behind front lines – the ex-military "John Wayne toilet paper" type of doctor and nurse, who were " _rough, tough and wouldn't take crap from anyone_." Of course, this was exactly the type of doctor you wanted in your corner when the going got sticky – and in a stressful maternity unit.

Harm shook the proffered hand as the interloper introduced himself.

"Hello father-to-be, pleased to meet you. I'm Mister Mike." His name-badge listed his title, making further introductions superfluous. The man promptly excused himself from Harm's presence and made a bee-line for where Terri was reclining, sucking on a gas/air mask.

"And hello to you, my dear mother-to-be."

He picked up the notes. "Hmm, a few weeks early, eh? Well, I've learned over the decades that, unless something is manifestly wrong, Mother Nature knows just what is needed to assure success in the delivery room. So let's have a listen and then we'll chat through whatever is best for you, Madam Mum." He was cleaning his hands in an alcohol gel as he spoke. Later, both Harm and Terri would assert that they were reminded of Donald Mallard – but with an even-better sense of humour and no bow-ties!

Harm was suffering a spot of transatlantic culture shock; Terri's " _medical mafia_ " back in the USA had looked after her during her two stateside pregnancies and deliveries, but over here they were dependent upon the British NHS (National Health Service). Here, the Brits just seemed to "get on with it" and were very proud that the NHS was " _free at the point of need_."

Mister Mike, settling onto a wheeled chair, rolled up to Terri and with a polite " _Well now, Madam Mum, may I check your progress please?_ " got to work once Terri had nodded her assent.

"Hey, nice warm hands – that makes a change." She smiled down at him.

Mister Mike looked up at her over his half-moon reading glasses. "Hmm: I don't normally get complimented that way by my patients."

"Call it a professional interest from a fellow medic. My patients never comment on my warm hands."

"Aha, dear lady. What branch of medicine is your speciality – and why don't your patients rate your services?"

"Hmm – pathologist?" Terri translated her American "M.E." into the UK vernacular.

Mister Mike smiled broadly, chortling happily. "I see the problem that you would have. OK, madam pathologist, we're going to be in close proximity for the next period of time. So how should I address you – what would you prefer?"

"Oh, just call me Terri; you're already quite intimate with me and after all, we have now been formally introduced."

"Well I find that the shortest name works fastest, so if you need my attention in a hurry just shout out 'Mike' – there is only the one of me in here tonight, I believe. Is that OK?"

Terri nodded and Mike continued. "So, your accent is from the South, I believe?" Through the banter, he continued his examination all the while.

"Oh yeah, Tennessee."

"If I recall correctly, your state flower is an iris?"

"Well remembered, doc – err, excuse me - Mister Mike. So, why 'Mister'?" Terri was trying to relax and she was improving, comforted by this Brit's easy style, his corona of confidence and the light banter within the room. His colleague "mini-Kate" was at his shoulder as he demonstrated his technique.

He smiled once more. "That's the British Medical establishment for you. Well, I spent seven years in Medical School, then post—qualification work to be allowed to be called 'Doctor'. Then, some 25 years later, after specialising in maternity, obstetrics and gynaecology, I got to be called 'Mister' again when I became a consultant. I believe we call it career progression to get back to being called mister!"

Terri was, by now, a little more relaxed. "Well, in my case I went into medicine after my mom died and then eventually into the ME world. What led you into this branch of medicine?"

"Allow me to share my secret. When I trained, I signed up with the Royal Air Force by way of funding my seven years of medical studies; the deal was thereafter a seven-year Short Service Commission with the RAF. I was planned to serve as a Station MO on an airfield somewhere in the UK, but then the Falklands War broke out in April of 1982 just as I was about to graduate. This meant that I was mobilised and headed south with "Grey Funnel Airlines" to Ascension Island then further south with the Navy. Afterwards, I was meant to spend the next seven years in a blue suit. However, after I had initially spent weeks stitching squaddies and Argies back together (including 36 hours in a sheep shed somewhere on East Falkland with two unexploded bombs wedged in the back wall), I built a working relationship with one of the plastic surgery consultants after the "Sir Galahad" disaster and ran an exchange rotation at Walter Reed." **A/N: historical note – for those interested, read the A/N at the end of this chapter.**

He smiled, recalling more-happy memories, "Indeed, it was one of the American medical Admirals, on welcoming me to Walter Reed, who inadvertently blurted out the ' _welcome to the Colonies_ ' greeting; we were to remain firm friends until he passed away a couple of years back. Long live the Special Relationship. But ultimately it was maternity – creating life after my battlefield baptism - that was my true calling and, when I was preparing to leave the RAF, I trained in Obstetrics back at Guys. Which is what got me into the baby business."

He concentrated once more on Terri. "OK: you look fine apart from checking around your baby's neck, but the proof of the pudding is in how Mummy is feeling. So, Terri, how are you doing?"

Terri put down the gas and air mixture to smile at him, relaxed beyond belief.

"Yes Mike, perfect."

"Obviously, I sincerely hope that shouting and yelling, along with waving and rushing, will be proven unnecessary tonight. Aha - I think I can see the problem."

Terri quietened down instantly, causing Harm to lean in, slightly concerned, as Mister Mike wielded an ultrasound wand, pointing out features to Doctor "mini-Kate" alongside him.

"Yes, that's the little bugger and I can see the problem – your little lady in here wants to be an ice-skater."

"Uh?" Terri wasn't immediately coherent.

"She has been pirouetting – spinning. This means that the cord is wrapped around her neck a couple of times. Nothing to worry about. The cord is always long and flexible, so your baby can move around as she develops. We just need to box a bit clever when she finally decides to come out and join us."

Everything about Mike exuded confidence and he quietly guided his apprentice through the steps necessary to resolve the problem. Then he looked up at Terri.

"Well, I am so pleased that this is not your ' _first rodeo_ ', but I treat all others the same and I want to keep you relaxed."

Mini-Kate nodded and continued onwards.

"Charlie, we'll need oxygen for the little one once she emerges and I aim to manage without stitches for Mummy but let's be ready just in case. Now, with no signs of distress and a good foetal heartbeat, we'll just work alongside Mother Nature. So, the dilation at 22:29 is…..""

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 19th December 2005, 22:53hrs BST**

 **Maternity Unit; University College Hospital**

 **25 Grafton Way, Fitzrovia, London WC1E** **6DB**

Mister Mike was as good as his word; Terri remained as relaxed as could be, baby Coulter-Rabb showed little sign of distress and mini-Kate was on top of everything. Eventually Mister Mike nodded approvingly as he looked once more over mini-Kate's shoulder.

"Good; here she comes; OK mum, one more push please."

Once more, Harm struggled manfully to resist the need to cry as Terri took comfort from holding his hand during the delivery. Less than 20 minutes later, the latest Coulter-Rabb baby entered the world.

The instantly-recognisable complaint of a new-born, as her empty lungs sucked in cold air after leaving the warmth of her mummy, echoed around the delivery suite, gladdening hearts and bringing satisfaction to all within earshot.

Terri, weary, sweaty and tearful, relaxed finally and grabbed Harm's other hand. He kissed her passionately.

"You know, she looks like and Iris. Love you, Teresa-wife."

Terri laughed at Harm's adoption of the "Iris" name; and yet, on reflection, the idea had some sense. It was a distinctive name. She looked him in the eye.

"Love you, Harm-husband."

As the proud father, Harm had to inject a slight note of realism. "Darling; I have our little Iris-blossom safely here– you concentrate on letting the medics work on you – please?"

The Staff nurse popped her head around the door. "Mrs Coulter-Rabb, perhaps a little early, but do you have any names selected?"

"Harm – that conversation with Mister Mike tonight about Tennessee. What about Iris as a name?"

"Well honey, that would be distinctive and special for our third child. You know, that works nicely. How about Sarah as a second name, for my Grams?"

"Yep, that works. Now, for a third name?"

Suddenly Harm had a brainwave.

"Hey Terri, what about the name of Faith?"

"Sound good – OK, that might work very nicely."

Terri nodded and looked down at the baby suckling in her arms. "Hello there, Iris Sarah Faith Coulter-Rabb; welcome to the family and welcome to London."

One of the nurses volunteered to operate the camera for the " _small section of the Coulter-Rabb family_ " portrait: namely Harm, Terri and (of course) the star of the show as she lay in Terri's arms, young Iris.

The larger Coulter-Rabb family portrait would follow at a later date, back at home

With the pictures taken and approved, Terri smiled wearily at the nurse; "OK, tell me about mini-Kate please". She began breastfeeding Iris, but before the story of mini-Kate could be told (two doctors from med school days) she had fallen asleep with Iris, sated, lying on her chest. Harm settled Iris as the nurse attended to Terri.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Tuesday 20th December 2005, 11:13hrs BST**

 **Maternity Unit; University College Hospital**

 **25 Grafton Way, Fitzrovia, London WC1E** **6DB**

Harm couldn't contain his joy as he had watched "his" family gathered around Terri in her hospital bed when they had visited at 10:00hrs that morning. This was everything that he had ever wished for, with his wonderful Teresa at the centre.

Later, as he lifted his phone to dial California and to spread the news, he once more gave thanks for that day, when his path had crossed with that of Terri Coulter.

"Burnett Residence."

"Hey grandma, we've got another one for ya!"

"Well, if that makes four, you're rivalling the Queen of England. Now, Harmon Rabb Junior – behave and welcome your new child properly."

"Already done that Mom; we'll email the pictures later when I get back home. Thomas has taken the youngsters back home for lunch, so Terri and I have some quality time to curl up with little Iris Sarah Faith."

"Oh, what lovely names; your Grandma will be pleased to hear about Sarah."

It was clear that Christmas was going to be disrupted, chaotic – and amazingly memorable for all the right reasons.

Harm worried (just for a nanosecond) how he was going to stay on top of his Italian workload during his paternity leave. Then he decided – " _tomorrow is another day_." He also realised that his deputy, a capable lady called Melinda, would keep things ticking over for a few weeks. He just needed to check in with her at some point on the Tuesday. Thank heavens that Italy was only an hour ahead of the UK (rather than Falls Church being five hours behind).

He turned over once more, ready to concentrate on his wife and his new child.

And promptly fell off the bed!

 **All he could hear, in his embarrassment, was Terri's unforced laughter ringing in his ears**.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Thursday 22nd December 2005, 06:35hrs BST**

 **Home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

" _Honey, she's your responsibility this morning."_

Terri nudged Harm awake then rolled over and went back to sleep; she had been breast-feeding the midnight and 3am feeds, leaving Harm to work with the previous night's bottle of expressed milk.

He picked up little Iris and carried her into the nursery to avoid disturbing Terri. After feeding, he changed and cleaned her then placed her back down in her bassinet alongside Terri's side of the bed.

He stood, bewitched and enthralled, watching his new daughter as she gurgled and waved her hand across her face before settling down once more.

A large mop of unruly ginger hair intruded into his field of vision.

"Morning dad," Mattie whispered. "She is lovely. Can I make you a cup of tea? The other little ones are still fast asleep."

"Yes sure Squirt; that would be lovely, but today I need a kick from real caffeine-laden coffee please. Give me two minutes, then I shall come down and join you in the kitchen and we can chat."

Father and daughter sat and chatted through the events of the past year and how his role in Italy was working out. Mattie's heart was still set on flying with the US forces and her bones had fully healed after the aircraft crash.

Harm was enjoying his Italian posting and the extra exercise opportunities during the weekdays, because he was always pitched into full-on "Dad" mode the minute he got home to London.

 **He would not have had it any other way. Just for a moment, he wondered how things might have turned out if he and Diane had actually "** _ **got it together**_ **" after his ramp strike and the time and care which she had lavished upon his recovery, but then he discarded the idea. It was not worth the brainpower to consider: there was no point in indulging in a case of "what if" because this, here at home in London, was his life, his home – and his Family.**

Christmas this year would be, once more, a special and joyous occasion. He would make the most of his paternity break, before flying back to Italy on Tuesday 3rd January to resume the fortnightly commute to his FJAG role in Napoli.

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 28 - "Special Christmas Delivery" (Part 45)**

 **A/N: historical note: RFA Sir Galahad (L3005) was a Round Table class** **landing ship logistics** **(LSL) vessel belonging to the Royal Fleet Auxiliary (RFA) of the United Kingdom. The ship saw service in the Falklands War of 1982, where she was bombed and set afire at Fitzroy on 8 June in the worst British setback of the war. On 8 June 1982 (while preparing to unload soldiers from the Welsh Guards in Port Pleasant, off Fitzroy, together with RFA Sir Tristram), the Sir Galahad was attacked by three A-4 Skyhawks from the Argentine Air Force, each loaded with three 500lb retarding tail bombs. At approximately 14:00 local time RFA Sir Galahad was hit by two or three bombs and set alight. She was also filled with equipment and munitions. A total of 48 soldiers and crewmen were killed in the explosions and subsequent fire. A significant number also suffered burns.**

 **On 21 June, the hulk was towed out to sea by RMAS Tug "Typhoon" and was sunk by HMS Onyx. She now lies at peace beneath the South Atlantic, as an official war grave.**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Next Chapter (29) will follow in around a month, in early September. My plan is monthly chapters until the end of 2019.**

 **Mike, England, 01-Aug-2019**

 **.************************************end of CH28 here - rest into Ch29 post-NWMariposa******


	29. Happy new beginnings, 2006

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 29 - part 46)**

 **Summary: this is a fictional story, in a fictional (slightly) Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005.** It involves a minor diversion from canon in April 1998 and strikes out in a new direction in 2005 after the final Season Ten episode "Fair Winds and Following Seas".

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". **See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N.** Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed. My thanks to "Syrae", my beta-reader.

 **A/N:** Revised following input from a review by "NWMariposa" on 27-07-2019 and I am grateful for her collaboration with me on evolving this chapter. This chapter (originally written as the back half of Ch28) was modified during August to incorporate my revisions following the points raised. In fairness, the structure of this chapter had already been mapped out.

 **A/N:** Ch 29: Faith Coleman's love life develops during January 2006, as the Coulter-Rabb family adapt to life with their new arrival.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 29 of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" – "A Happy New Year 2006"**

 **A/N Publication date 01-Sep-2019** : ...and now, on with Chapter 29: Faith returns in January to explore her relationship with Andrew a *whole* lot further. Through the evening, she faces up to some dark moments, which threaten to drag her backwards into the darkness of the mineshaft.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 29 - Part 46 - "Happy new beginnings 2006"**

 **Saturday 21st January 2006, 10:59hrs BST**

 **Suite 609, Marriott Hotel, Grosvenor Square; London W1K 6JP, UK**

The weather dried up from January 18th in 2006, giving a ten-day slot before the next sleet showers hit London.

After spending her Christmas at home and thinking often of Andrew (the two had exchanged several emails during their separation), Faith had brought forward her next UK visit. She had scheduled her next mentoring session with her two apprentices for the Monday morning, but had flown across on the Friday night, landing into Heathrow on the Saturday morning.

In First Class, she had actually managed to sleep for quite a good proportion of the flight in from IAD and had also arranged an early check-in at her hotel suite. She wanted to be at her best for the next meeting with Andrew.

The limousine transfer from the BA terminal Four at Heathrow had been flawless, including a brief diversion to visit Hamleys once more. Nowadays, an almost-empty suitcase was a permanent part of her luggage set, bringing toys back to Hope and Daniel as well as donations for local DC charities which Faith also supported financially. Daniel and Hope had sent her off across the Atlantic with their Christmas gift money and a shopping list. They had admonished her that " _this is Christmas present buying Mommy, not our birthdays!_ "

The limo resembled a small Santa grotto when it finally arrived at the Marriott later in the morning, because Faith had also hoovered up a number of presents for a visit to the Coulter-Rabb household, which was scheduled for Sunday lunchtime.

She had texted Andrew on reaching Heathrow and they had re-affirmed their pre-Christmas arrangement to meet in the Hotel lobby at 1900hrs that evening. This gave her plenty of time to catch up on sleep and prepare her outfit for what might possibly be their "first proper date."

A light lunch at 1200 in her suite, accompanied by a small glass of wine, ensured that Faith could relax and rest. She actually slept soundly until a little after 1715 hours. The maid service was briefed to deliver a wake-up serving of light afternoon tea and cakes (she recalled a British exchange officer describing the concept of " _tea and stickies_ ") precisely for 1730hrs after an alarm call at 1720hrs.

Suitably refreshed, she showered and took care to ensure that she would be elegantly groomed for her meeting with Andrew.

The next step was to choose her outfit. She surveyed the suitcases in her suite with a feeling of anticipation…

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Saturday 21st January 2006, 17:38hrs BST**

 **Burridge family home, Baker Street, London, NW1 6XE, UK**

" _Now Daddy, she is a nice lady so you need to look nice."_

Andrew's children all wanted to help Dad to look his best for "the nice American sailor lady".

Cynthia was in charge of "overall wardrobe collation", with Maria in charge of tie selection.

Albert had taken it upon himself to attend to shoe polishing. He had picked up on his father's earlier comment that " _This lady is US military and she always seems to have clean, well-polished footwear_."

Albert was determined that his father would be immaculately turned out.

As she watched him finagle the knot on his tie, Cynthia spoke quietly to her father.

"Dad, you *do* know that you should be happy, don't you?"

He affectionately ruffled her long blond hair.

"Oh, I know that for sure, Cyn; both in my heart and in my head. I am just so sorry that those bastards last year took your mother after the two of you had worked so hard to build a relationship after she and I had first met. I was so very proud of you then, plus how you took your new sister and brother under your wing when they came along later. Be sure that I'd give up anything for the three of you to be happy."

"Well Dad, we stand together best when we act as a family – and by that, I mean a happy family. Mrs Wilson at school the other day was saying that human beings are meant to be together. So please don't be afraid to find your new lady. We're behind you all the way – and *you* are included in the family happiness quotient as well!"

"Thanks darling; that means a lot. I know that Faith has been through some dark stuff, so we may have to take a while, taking it easy to continue getting to know each other whilst she heals."

"Dad, you will know what is right. Now, go meet this Yank sailor lady. Knock her socks off, because she is lucky to have met you!"

"Yes ma'am." He threw a mock salute. Having his kids' support for this evening meeting with Faith was important to him. The whole family was hoping to rebuild during 2006 and – to be brutally honest - he had a longing for female company - even if platonic.

In the dark hours before dawn, he missed the warmth of another body alongside him in bed and he was hopeful that, behind the scenes, some blithe spirits were stirring the pot of fortune. Was it mere happenstance that had led him to bump into Faith in the embassy that day?

With his children waving from the lounge window, Andrew hopped into the taxi and set off for his first proper "date" with this intriguing, damaged, enigmatic American lady called Faith Coleman.

He realised that it had only been six months since his children had lost their mother.

He mulled over the reactions of his children. Cynthia's reaction was understandable, because she was the oldest and had been through this before, when he had first met and then courted Angela.

He wondered whether he was piling too many changes onto Maria's and Albert's shoulders. Especially at Albert's age, losing your mother was the single worst thing that could possibly happen.

Andrew sighed. He might be ready for something new, but his little kids would not be. Not this soon. They were probably still in the middle of the grieving process despite intensive counselling. Despite their brave expressions that " _Dad is absolutely entitled to have his own life_ " (admittedly only up to a point, he realised that his kids' interest would have to be first and foremost on his list of considerations.

By the time that the taxi had reached the hotel, Andrew had decided on the "long game".

If Faith was the woman he believed that she was, she would understand. After all, she had a pair of near-three-year-olds who would need to be brought into the mix at some point.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Saturday 21st January 2006, 18:19hrs BST**

 **Suite 609, Marriott Hotel, Grosvenor Square; London W1K 6JP, UK**

The half-hour of indecision over her outfit was causing Faith a small amount of stress.

She had tried on a two-piece skirt-suit; a pantsuit, a skirt and a sweater, along with courts, heels, trousers with ankle-boots and also her high-heeled long winter boots. Sometimes, the generous luggage allowance in BA First Class was a handicap!

She was in a flurry of indecision. This had never happened before - nothing quite matched!

Her counsellors, following her rescue and recovery, had set out a suggested roadmap for her recovery. One of the key themes was the need to regain control. To some extent, her OCD was a mixed blessing. It had given her a structure onto which she had fiercely hung her recovery as she rebuilt her life, piece by piece, from the darkness of the mineshaft. It gave her a refuge, but her ordered structure had been damaged by her captor. She scoffed: "damaged"? Try more like "decimated".

She smiled, thinking back to a recent event in the office. OCD shows up in little ways – she had needed to re-sort her pens, pencils, and markers. Someone had put a couple of ball point pens in with her fountain pens and mixed up the yellow writing pencils with the black drawing pencils...

Part of her "structure" - her method of control - lay in her clothing. She had loved the ordered elegance of her naval uniform, presenting a standardised appearance to the world on weekdays. On her off-duty days, she always wore the same running outfits - from underwear to outerwear, according to the seasons – for her exercise. She would usually cover the same running routes and tracks and then she would sit, as she cooled down, on the tailgate of her Jeep as she scrupulously cleaned the grass clumps from the treads of her running shoes, aiming that no blade of grass should find its way into the cockpit of her vehicle as she drove home.

The deaths of her parents - with the financial security which it bestowed on her - had enabled her to set up her apartment as a stable, ordered refuge from the disorganised world, with a standardised pattern which gave her structure.

She had read the NCIS report by the lead agent who had conducted the search shortly after her kidnap, when NCIS was treating her absence as a simple case of UA. She noted that the (no doubt female) agent had commented on her shoe collection, which Faith had sequenced by heel height. She would describe some JAG cases as " _one-inch problems_ " and others as " _two-inch problems_ ", adjusting the heel height of her chosen regulation pumps for the day, in order to help her concentrate on the particular case. As a result and as a corollary, she invested heavily in her shoe collection and treated herself to spikes for off-duty activities when the occasion arose - including that fateful night when she had been kidnapped.

"Control" was an important aspect in the life of the new, post-kidnap Faith Coleman. She had raged, almost incandescent with unvoiced anger, during her early counselling sessions, inarticulate with rage at having been deprived of her structures and her control over her life. In particular, the months spent naked beneath her nightdress in the mineshaft had chipped away at her preciously-guarded confidence, reinforced by the metal collar, the welded cuffs and that damned ring which "unsub94" had placed upon her when she was unconscious.

In choosing to meet up with Andrew, Faith was also exerting control, agreeing to the meeting on her terms and on her turf - her hotel, her timings.

In truth, the terror of the isolation in the mineshaft had forced her, on those long dark nights, to consider how she might set about finding a good man to make up for the horrible things which "unsub94" had inflicted upon her.

The terror of her time alone had made her more determined than ever, to live life "after release" on her terms. But, even three years on from her rescue and liberatoon, she knew at the back of her mind that she still had a long way to go before she would be ready, comfortable and truly able to think about a real relationship.

More importantly, just thinking about the concept of "meeting someone" had given her hope that she would be rescued and returned to the light. She just knew, in her heart, that she was nowhere near ready for a real relationship.

Damn the kidnapping bastard: meeting Andrew had just happened too darn soon!

Now, post-rescue and after a lot of support and top-rated counselling, Faith used her clothing as another support, fiercely re-establishing her freedom of choice over what to wear. By the same token, her naval uniforms had helped her return to balance: indeed, this was one of the aspects which had caused her to fight so hard for re-instatement into JAG after being signed off with a clean *physical* bill of health.

She sat on the bed and laughed off her irritation at her apparent inability to pick an outfit. Then, her eyes fell upon the top flap inside her third suitcase. This case always had a spare "fun" outfit tucked away for her travels and she had forgotten about it.

Sheer devilment sparked in Faith's heart: how would a leather skirt look? Too pushy? Nope, just right for a first date; seductive, practical, crease-free… and a chance to reverse the bad luck of that Valentine's night almost four years ago in her transformation. Tying her hair back into a simple ponytail, she laid out the skirt and the blouse, then nodded approvingly as she chose a thong and simple bra from the "Victoria's Secret" bags hidden with her fun clotbing. The plain white blouse would look fine, along with a silk scarf tied at her throat covering the scar there. She only had to head down to the hotel restaurant, where the table was reserved; she wouldn't be walking out anywhere because *she* was setting the agenda.

She was in control.

And then she realised; who was she kidding? She wasn't ready to draw attention to herself. She was probably going to spent years creeping around the edge of the bright light of life, steadily building courage and repairing the deep damage inflicted by that horrible man (whose name she would never utter).

But she *had* to believe that, one day, she would be finally ready to face the world and be truly, irrepressibly positive. On that day, then her mind would be finally made up on what her outfit would be on that day!

Her control: her choice.

She then set about returning all the other outfits to the wardrobes; she couldn't let the poor maid clear up this "clothing store". Her simple, demure suit was ready.

There would be no underwear silhouettes visible beneath her outfit tonight as she began her potential (very) long-term "courtship" of Andrew. This man had fascinated her - if she was honest with herself - since the first moment of their meeting, when he had bumped into her in the embassy. The look of shock on his face at that moment had intrigued her. Their meeting might just have been a sign, as the gods conspired to engineer a positive outcome.

If she were honest with herself, Faith would admit that she and God had suffered a fairly-major falling-out during her time chained in the mineshaft. But she could rationalise that this London meeting might - just possibly - be an appeasement from the Higher Power. She was prepared to give "Him" the benefit of the doubt!

Yet Andrew clearly wasn't fazed by what had happened to her: indeed, they could be almost-perfectly matched in terms of traumatic experiences.

She was ready for the evening; then she looked down at her painted toenails. It seemed a shame to cover everything up beneath the armour of her outfits.

But cover up she needed to, because – damn him – "that man" had left her a lot of healing still to do.

She just hoped that Andrew was the man whom she believed that he was, prepared to await her final recovery as she stepped slowly towards the sunshine.

Now then: boots, courts or spike heels for the walk down to the hotel restaurant?

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Saturday 21st January 2006, 18:29hrs BST**

 **Residents Bar, Marriott Hotel, Grosvenor Square; London W1K 6JP, UK**

The dressing indecision was at an end and lay behind her, as Faith strode out of her suite and headed to the lift, ready to descend to the lobby. Sitting at a small table in the corner of the bar area, Andrew's eyes fell – as Faith had planned and hoped – on her legs and then he appreciated the neatly-buttoned suit.

" _Under control, in charge of her appearance. Remember Andrew, take it slowly. She's probably screwed up all of her courage to even come out and have dinner with you tonight, here in her hotel so she feels safe. Gently, slowly, there is no rush here_ ".

He stopped about three feet away from her, as she rose to meet him.

"A striking outfit, Faith – very smart".

She smiled, plucking an imaginary hair off her sleeve.

"Well Andrew, I may still be a work in progress, but I wanted to emphasise tonight that I chose to wear this outfit because I can and because I want to."

She stood still, to greet Andrew with a smile and open arms; he reciprocated and they shook hands, before looking each other in the eyes and then, slowly and hesitantly, closing in for a hug.

"Please let me check first, Faith. Kiss, cheeks, lips or just a hug?"

His arms reached gently around her back, as hers stretched around him, both pulling each other closer. He looked into her eyes, asking a question. She nodded and tightened – slowly and carefully – the hug.

A kiss would probably be too soon for Faith – but she knew that, deep down and in the long term, she wanted to trust Andrew. One day, she was determined that she *would* find out how good a kisser he was!

Andrew was reassured by her decision to stop at the hug. He knew that she had been badly damaged and he, as a man, *had* to respect the time and the space and the emotional hard work which she would continue to go through, until the glorious day when (he hoped) she would trust again. When that day arrived, he desperately hoped that he would be the one, present to bring her into the light.

" _Hug, reassure, talk, hug, repeat._ " Unbidden, the thought sprang into his mind.

"Mmm, that feels nice," Faith remarked. Despite her still-fading fears about being close to a man, she was growing in confidence.

"No complaints here, Faith; and my children send you their regards and their hopes that we shall have a great evening."

"Well, my two darlings are a little young to be dictating Mommy's love life, but I am sure they will begin their intrusions in the coming year. I am sure that they, likewise, want us to be happy."

From her superior height, she laid her head briefly upon his shoulder, before straightening and enquiring as her grip moved to a joining of their hands: "Drink first, or straight to food?"

Andrew smiled as he gazed once more into her eyes. "I think a small glass of wine for me as we peruse the menu – and I trust that you'll find favour with that idea?"

She nodded and they strolled – still unconsciously holding hands – into the bar.

Andrew realised that she had told him about wearing her own choice of clothing when she had been kidnapped. This was clearly part of her recovery and his heart ached for her continuing need for re-affirmation. He was determined to help her in any way that he could.

He could see that, every time they met, more differences from Angela were apparent. He lambasted himself for his earlier "mis-identification", trying to distinguish "his" lovely Yankee sailor lawyer from his much-loved deceased American pilot and mother of his children.

He sipped his wine and opened the menu. Watching him, Faith also sipped her wine then suggested "shall we go across and sit in? I'm finding the bar a little exposed."

"Sure thing; may I carry your glass?"

Faith nodded, stood up and walked across to the head waiter's lectern at the entrance to the restaurant. They were quickly conducted to their allotted table, in a quiet booth at the back of the restaurant - as Faith had requested when she made the reservation.

Perusing the menu, Faith realised that she was glad to be indulging in what, for thousands of people that night around the world, was a normal activity. Her counsellors and the psychiatrists had always encouraged her to look ahead to regaining control of her life. Tonight, with Andrew, was a part of her continuing recovery and rehabilitation.

With the starters chosen and a joint decision to share a chateaubriand, they agreed on a bottle of Robert Mondavi Reserve red, full of the warmth of a Californian summer some years before.

The rich ruby wine flowed into the decanter and then into their glasses, slipping down smoothly as then enjoyed their starters. Faith had selected a plate of sliced meats as her starter, whilst Andrew had chosen a goose liver pate starter.

The conversations continued, exchanging more details about their respective histories along with hopes and aspirations. Andrew described how his children had been keen to help Daddy to look his best for his "date".

Faith was able to recount that she had updated her children by Skype earlier, describing Andrew to Daniel and Hope. Talking about her children just seemed such a natural activity - until she suddenly - and completely inadvertently - thought of how they had been conceived...

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

Suddenly, Faith felt a shiver run right down her spine. She shuddered visibly and dropped her knife and fork, which fell onto her plate with a clatter. Concerned, Andrew reached across towards her hands.

Instinctively, she clenched her fists and drew her hands back, then reached – oh so slowly – forward towards him once more.

He looked at her, his face mirroring his concern.

"Darling, what is it?"

She forced herself to breathe more deeply, turning her hand over to respond to the reassurance of Andrew's gentle grasp. She could feel her heart hammering away, throbbing in her ears.

Across the table, Andrew was concerned by her sudden change in behaviour.

Later he realised that, as the blood drained from her face, her pallor had highlighted her lovely freckles against a skin which was the colour of parchment.

This wasn't normal, by any stretch of the imagination.

He waited patiently, as he was unable to do anything else until she gave an indication of what was affecting her. With his free hand, he picked up her knife and fork and laid them in their usual positions, crossed on her plate to signal to the waiter that she had paused, not finished. He hoped desperately that she would be able to resume her meal.

Slowly, she calmed down, breathing out as she desperately tried to regain control.

Slowly, the colour returned to her face.

Control – that word again rolled uninvited into her mind, eating into her soul as she desperately attempted to smile at the lovely man across the table.

It was time to talk.

She squeezed his hand and leaned back in her chair.

"Andrew, I think it is time to talk. Can I trust you?"

"Yes, of course, but if you are being really serious – as I strongly believe you are – then my answer is a simple and straightforward **'absolutely and whenever and forever** **'** , my darling".

All of a sudden, Andrew realised that this was not going to be their last meeting; he was about to commit to this beautiful, traumatised, damaged woman. He knew that, whatever had just knocked her off her axis, he wanted to be around to resolve it – for a while if not actually forever. This bewitching woman, sitting opposite him and holding his hand, needed his help – and he wanted to give that help.

However long it might take.

"How can I help, be it by actions, inactions, talking, staying _schtumm_ , waiting, whatever. I am here for you, Faith. But remember to eat as well."

"Well, here goes. That bastard tried to bury me – literally – and he came *oh so* close to succeeding. I hadn't realised, when I was first rescued by Terri and her team, what the shaved patch on my neck meant. I made the mistake of examining the files, including Terri's autopsy files and the AFOSI files, as I struggled to get to grips with the sheer awfulness of the whole case."

She sipped her wine before continuing.

Andrew was beginning to realise that the "sip of wine" was a reflex to give her thinking time. Damn the kidnapper for what he had done to this intriguing, bewitching woman. Faith was clearly wound up tighter than a spring, as she struggled to explain what was eating her up. But she clearly was beginning to trust *him* as another of her _confidantes_ – he felt honoured and awed.

"I now realise that I came very close to dying in that shit-hole. What he did to me – impregnating me (or rather, implanting two carefully-designed embryos) without my knowledge or my consent; hell, without even my damned awareness – still eats away at my confidence. I wouldn't describe myself as a victim of unwanted sexual intercourse, but how in the hell else *can* I give a name to what was done to me?"

She held her hand up, with the thumb and forefinger just a millimetre apart. "He came this close to breaking me – maybe even closer. And he left me damaged – badly. Despite the best efforts of a team of varied professionals, just occasionally I find myself back in the dark. As you've probably realised, it happened again just now – and I *so* wanted this evening to be just a normal, enjoyable time with you. But I want to – no, I *need* to – overcome this, because I am determined to live again. Andrew, I *have* to live again. I've got to overcome this terrible feeling which just sneaks up on me – often when I relax like just now."

As a reflex, she undid her silk scarf and placed it on the table. This gave Andrew a clear view of the rough lump of skin where the heavy collar had rubbed against her every day during her captivity.

Suddenly, he didn't care about time. He was going to help this woman and he was going to put whatever effort was needed into assisting her – for as long as it took – on behalf of the overwhelming majority of good, decent men in the world. This would be his new mission in life – if she'd accept his help and support.

Across the table, Faith clasped her hands together, in a vain attempt to stop them shaking. She was only partially successful, so Andrew slid around the booth towards her and gently – seeking her nod of approval – gently wrapped his hands around Faith's hands.

Reassuringly, he felt her fingers intertwine with his. She gave him a little, lopsided "Faith Coleman grin". He decided that the time was right for him to pose a question which he had deferred.

"How can I help?"

"For now, by just doing what you already are doing, Andrew. I need to face this – whatever "this" might end up being. Plus, I reckon that I can face it down better as part of a couple – platonic for now and maybe for quite a while to come. So, yes please, I want you with me if you are willing."

"For as long as you need me."

Andrew had made his commitment.

"OK, let's finish this lovely meal, then I need to talk. It may take a while, Andrew."

"Talk away, Faith; you have me for as long as you need me."

"Thank you."

The couple resumed their meal, in what might be described as a companionable silence. Faith just felt a small but growing sense of peace.

 **This might just work out after all.**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Saturday 21st January 2006, 21:47hrs BST**

 **Main restaurant, Marriott Hotel, Grosvenor Square; London W1K 6JP, UK**

"… and so that's what the counsellors advised me to do. I've followed their advice and I have made progress. But just occasionally I find myself sliding back, a little. It just sits there, in the dark corners, waiting – just like tonight."

She sighed. "Oh God, will I ever be free of this?" She shuddered, then sat back into her chair as she reached for her water glass.

Across the table, Andrew sipped his water, waiting for Faith to continue her story and her journey towards the light. The details divulged this evening had, once more, made him feel embarrassed to be a man. Where had that absolute swine ever found the idea that this was an acceptable way to treat women – heck, *any* other human being?

Faith's story had moved him and he was determined to help. He also knew that this was going to take some time.

But in the aftermath of Angela's sudden death, time was definitely what he had in abundance. He had his children, who needed him, would support him but most of all were still healing from the violent loss of their mother. The entire family unit could all benefit from supporting each other. The slow pace of their meetings might help everyone.

This broken woman was worth it. She was worth fighting for, for as long as it took. As a man, he was bitterly offended by her story of what the kidnapper had done to her, with her and with her children without her consent.

Across the table, already relaxing, resting and slightly sleepy after her disclosures, Faith sighed and looked at him.

"Andrew, in another parallel universe, this is the point where I would probably enquire as to whether you might care for a coffee in my suite, but obviously…" she stuttered to a halt, embarrassed by her clumsy phrasing.

" _Call yourself a lawyer, Coleman? Yeah, really smooth phraseology, girl!_ "

He raised a supportive hand, with a reassuring smile. "Faith, I fully understand – and I would, once again I say this, be very happy to wait for you. On behalf of the ( _overwhelming majority of us who are_ ) decent men in the world, I know that I have to wait. This is your life and you are the one who must set the pace. Let me text the little ones."

He carefully extracted his phone from his shirt pocket and texted home; it was likely that he might be a little longer before he headed for the taxi. But the meltdown had been averted – for now.

"I think we might just make this work; this might save you, Faith; and I think it may just save me, too."

"Thank you, Andrew. Now, Coffee?"

"Yes please: and then, Faith, please allow me to settle the bill."

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Sunday 22nd January 2006, 14:29hrs BST**

 **Home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

" _Hey, Auntie Faith is here, kids. Welcome, darling."_

Terri was pleased that Harm's first weekend back in the UK had been delayed by a week, due to operational problems in the USN Mediterranean Fleet. This meant that he was present in the house and able to lift Faith off her heels and hug her as she arrived at the Coulter-Rabb home.

After Harm put her back down, Faith was glad that she had selected a pant-suit for today, as she staggered into the lounge at " _Coulter-Rabb Towers"_ (as she had nicknamed the London home) with Ellie clasping one leg and David, not to be outdone, hugging her other thigh by way of welcome. She eventually settled fairly-elegantly onto the settee, gently dislodging Ellie and David with a hug and kiss on the top of the head for each of them.

"My, how you two have grown! Are you helping your Mommy with your new little sister?"

Both the Coulter-Rabb children – of course – nodded in confirmation as they awaited Faith's next action. They had seen Auntie Faith's Hamley's toy-store carrier bags! Across the room, Harm and Mattie looked on in pride; only Terri missed seeing this scene of domestic bliss, having just been dragged away to change Iris once more. She soon returned.

With everyone settled, presents disbursed and coffee served, the adult friends settled down to update each other.

"So Faith, how did the evening go; how's this Brit once you get to know him?"

The reaction astounded her - Terri had never seen Faith so animated; the dark-haired lawyer positively gushed with enthusiasm. The "little android" had definitely switched on at least part of her full "human programming!"

"Terri, we had a magical evening; we met at 1830hrs but all of a sudden it was 2300hrs and we were still chatting, having gone through a lovely meal and quite a bit of wine, I can tell you! He understands me better than I could hope – especially as I had a bit of a meltdown."

Faith looked slightly sheepish for a moment, then brightened. "I could feel as though I've known him all my life and he was just *so* easy to talk to and he knows that he has to wait for me to set the pace…."

Yielding to a mischievous suggestion, Terri attempted to goad Faith in a good-humoured; "So it was an easy answer on the next date question? Yes?"

Faith blushed, then nodded sheepishly and replied: "Oh yes – next time I'm in town!"

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 29 - "Happy new beginnings" (Part 46)**

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 **Next Chapter (30) will follow in around a month, in early October. My plan is monthly chapters until the end of 2019.**

 **Mike, England, 01-Sep-2019**


	30. Big Mac surprise

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 30 - part 47)**

 **Summary: this is a fictional story, in a fictional (slightly) Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005.** It involves a minor diversion from canon in April 1998 and strikes out in a new direction in 2005 after the final Season Ten episode "Fair Winds and Following Seas".

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". **See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N.** Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed. My thanks to "Syrae", my beta-reader.

 **A/N:** Mention of Canon Episodes "Adrift pts 1 & 2" (S06Ep24 and S07Ep01) broadcast on 22-May and 25-Sep-2001.

 **A/N Publication date 01-Oct-2019** : ...and now, on with Chapter 30: An old friend from Harm's past puts in an unexpected appearance, as Mattie settles further into British life. I am pleased to include the suggestions from **jpstar57** in this chapter; thanks mate, hope that you like the result. Mike

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 30 - Part 47 - "Big Mac surprise"**

 **Saturday 11** **th** **February 2006, 15:00hrs BST**

 **Home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

Harm had managed to hitch a ride on a MATS transport into "RAF" Mildenhall, but an inflight diversion for an emergency uplift of a wounded Marine from Landstuhl had put the arrival time back to 01:20hrs on the Saturday morning. After refuelling, a fresh crew took the C-17 onwards towards the USA.

Harm finally thought that his luck had improved when he grabbed a seat in the back of a crew-bus which was transferring an aircrew from Mildenhall to the small US outpost at RAF Northolt. A brief diversion through almost-empty streets had enabled the driver to deliver Harm to his home tired, irritable, rumpled and hungry, at 02:29hrs on the Saturday morning. Fortunately, dawn in February was a good few hours away.

Terri had welcomed him home with a brief hug and the loving, wifely admonishment that " _you stink – go shower before you come near me_ " and had then fallen back asleep. In fairness, her fatigued status was justified, because she was still "on point" for looking after seven-week-old Iris. This task was made harder, she often reminded Harm, by her husband abandoning her to go and play with his Italian naval friends!

The family had awoken at 09:30hrs on the Saturday, with Mattie keeping her younger siblings quiet, distracted and fed in the kitchen until her parents were ready to put in an appearance.

Harm realised, once again, that his eldest daughter was, quite regularly, worth her weight in gold.

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A quiet day at home was interrupted by a knock on the door just after 15:00hrs.

Harm opened the door, to find:

"Mac! Hello and welcome. What a lovely surprise; please come in."

He noted that his former Marine colleague's hair was cut and styled shorter – reminiscent of when they had first met in the Rose Garden in 1996.

She smiled hopefully up at him as she wiped her feet on the mat.

"I hope you didn't mind, but I wanted to pick your brains quietly before I fly back to San Diego tomorrow. I had asked Jenn Coates for your address details before I flew across last week."

"Sure Mac: come on in and sit down. Terri, we have a guest; look who's arrived."

Terri emerged from the kitchen and her face broke into a warm, welcoming smile.

"Hey Mac – welcome. Let me take your coat."

It was as Mac reached up her hand to lift the strap of her handbag off her shoulder that Terri and Harm noticed two things: the glint of a wedding band and engagement ring on her left hand, followed by the revelation of her pregnant status as she removed her raincoat.

Their gaze was obvious – but Mac took it in her stride. "I can finally say, Harm – Mackenzie-Baptiste one, endometriosis nil". Mac's smile was simply radiant as she headed for a chair and stood ready to sit down, bubbling with the natural joy of a pregnant mother-to-be.

Harm realised that she seemed truly settled – the haunted look of the previous year's Sarah Mackenzie had been replaced by the settled, confident, fulfilled expression of a happy mother-to-be. Backed up, of course, by the life-long confidence of a "kick-ass" US marine!

Clearly, something momentous – and very good - had happened in Mac's life. Harm was genuinely pleased for her.

"Mac – congratulations." Terri was the first to recover, smoothly transitioning into the welcoming hostess role as she took Mac's coat to the coat-rack. She returned, arms open wide, to embrace Mac warmly; Mac hugged her best friend's wife. "Thanks, friend."

"Always, Mac."

Terri slipped further into "hostess" mode: "Tea, coffee or water?"

Mac smiled. "Tea please; you've obviously noticed."

"Yes. Welcome to the club." Terri stayed close to Mac as she gently guided the pregnant Marine onto her chair. Terri produced another cushion, which supported Mac better. Harm, hovering in the background as Terri headed back to the kitchen, couldn't help himself as he blurted out his next question:

"So, news and events and developments since last April? You've been busy, Marine."

"Indeed I have been – and did I just hear a giggling baby in the nursery?" Mac responded with a friendly smile.

"Yes, in a moment I shall introduce you to little Iris, our very own Christmas present," smiled Terri, bringing the tea tray in from the kitchen and settling it on the table alongside Mac's end of the settee as she headed back out to collect Iris from the crib.

She could see Mac's gears whirring, so she decided to pre-empt the next question. "One hundred percent UK conceived, born and bred: our little Easter surprise. So, how about your happy news?"

Mac beamed with happiness. "Well, you'll know that I said ' _never again_ ' when it came to getting involved with other countries' military men?"

Terri and Harm nodded in unison as they exchange knowing glances - prompting Mac to smile again.

"Well, the Canadian forces needed to pick our brains on military tribunals and they sent a lovely man across, south of the border."

" _Uh-oh_ " passed through both Harm's and Terri's minds – just as Mac smiled a glowing, wide, all-teeth-on-display grin. She raised a hand in weary acknowledgement, but it was clear from the depth of her self-satisfied smile that Sarah Mackenzie-Baptiste, with all her emotional baggage, divorces and pain, had finally – and definitively – found " **The One** "…

"I know what you're thinking." She caressed her swollen belly as she continued smiling. "And yes, I know – exactly - what went through your mind, Harmon Rabb." She looked across the room at Harm.

He'd actually been thinking about her endometriosis diagnosis but decided to just nod wisely and smile understandingly.

"I decided on a different approach this time around – Alasdhair was just *so* different. I also took to heart your comment from last time."

Harm frowned, trying to recall which particular observational gem had risen to the top of all his conversations with Mac during their near-decade-long period of working together in Falls Church.

She smiled, leaning across to grasp his hand, giving it a squeeze.

"You asked me if, when I was marrying Mic, why I was so hell-bent on having my best-ever friend at my wedding to validate my choice of husband."

She paused as a brief expression of sorrow clouded her face for an instant, looking apologetically at Terri before she experience continued.

"Five years ago, I nearly killed my best friend by insisting on having Harm at my wedding – based upon my deep-seated insecurity. I was nearly responsible for you becoming a widow, Terri."

She brightened, looking down at her stomach, then looked up again smiling – Harm remembered the original " _Marine Mac smile_ " from their first meeting in the Rose Garden and their early cases together.

"So, Alasdhair arrived in San Diego early last May about a month after I'd had another procedure to try and get on top of my endometriosis. He and I worked together for a fortnight and then the sports day over the Memorial Day weekend found us perfectly matched. I'd picked myself up after the Mic debacle and it was two years on since Alasdhair's wife had died. We just clicked – and the rest is history. We married in August and, as you can see, we're on the route to parenthood. I'll be starting my maternity leave in three months' time just before Memorial Day."

She looked at Terri. "Which brings me to the other reason for me visiting. Terri, you rebuilt your relationship with your Dad after his acquittal – and, moreover, re-settled him into society after his incarceration. In the same way, I need to make sure that Uncle Matt is reintegrated into society when his sentence finishes in July. He's been out of circulation for a hell of a long time and his health isn't the best, so I'd like to pick your brains, if you don't mind."

Terri smiled warmly, as she reached across and gently grasped Mac's hands reassuringly. "Mac, it would be my honour. How long are you here for?"

The relief on Mac's face was visible, as Terri shepherded her into the study to begin the important task of passing across her experience and skills. Terri simply felt blessed that she was able to assist her husband's best friend. She had appreciated Mac's approach all those years before, at the sports day in '99 when she had been nursing a five-month-old Ellen.

Terri was delighted that Mac had made the effort to maintain the friendship with Harm, whilst also recognising the fact of his marriage to Terri.

Maybe, Terri realised, Mac was ready (finally) to benefit from a good role-model. Well, if she truly was, then Terri looked forward to helping her to the very best of her ability.

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 **Saturday 11** **th** **February 2006, 16:53hrs BST**

 **Home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

" _OK Marine, farewell. Go steady and keep us posted please."_

 _"_ _Sure thing, Harm. Terri – thank you ever so much."_

"My pleasure, Mac – safe journey and have a wonderful birth experience at the end."

At Terri's farewell, Mac looked, briefly, nervously at her swollen stomach as she tied the belt of her raincoat, then she looked up again and smiled at Terri.

"Too late for me to back out now! I'm committed but so is my wonderful husband; I reckon that Alasdhair wants this even more than I do. Hey, off I go; thanks once more."

The two hours had passed in a flash. As Mac headed down the path to her taxi, Terri relaxed into Harm's embrace and then they waved once more to Mac as the taxi departed.

She tilted her head and kissed his chin as his eyes followed the taxi down the street.

"Well now, darling Harm; that was definitely a turn-up for the books. Who would have thought it, your big bad _by-the-book_ Marine has gotten herself pogged by a Canadian! I wish them well, I really do; Alasdhair sounds like a super guy and she'll need and deserve someone strong, if only to put up with her crap."

Wisely, Harm simply nodded: he was just going to go with the flow.

"Yes, dear."

She swatted his arm playfully as they headed back into the lounge.

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 **Thursday 16** **th** **February 2006, 18:45hrs BST**

 **Home of the 1604 "** ** _City of London_** **" Squadron, Air Training Corps**

 **ATC Hut, Scout Grounds, Tottenham Hale, London W1H**

"Fight, flight 'shun!"

A flight of 26 Air Cadets stood proudly to attention, ready to welcome their newest members just as their Flight Lieutenant made the announcements. In real life he was a Chemistry teacher from the local comprehensive, who volunteered his time as a member of the RAF's VR(T). This was a hangover from before World War Two, when the Volunteer Reserve (Training) had been set up to develop the future aircrews for the RAF – a wisely prescient move, given the subsequent events of 1936-1939.

"OK, parish notices, ladies and gentlemen. We will need the parental consent forms signed and back to me by next Thursday's drill evening, without fail. Just remind you parents that – like the Summer Camp weeks – you are going to be subject to military discipline even for a day down at Odiham, falling out of Pumas and Merlins and Chinooks."

"Cadet Cholmondeley-Warner, Cadet Smith (P), Cadet Eccles, Cadet Coulter-Rabb. Welcome."

With her riotous ginger hair tamed, pinned and netted beneath her RAF blue beret, Mattie marched proudly forward to take her place amongst the ranks of her fellow cadets before they would be "falling out" to form up into their study groups. Hardly surprisingly, the members of Mattie's flight were studying " _Principles of Aeronautics_ " from the little blue-bound RAF study books.

Her parents were looking on proudly. A chance New Year conversation with her schoolgirl chum had revealed the existence of the ATC and, over the following three weeks, Mattie had researched, applied and been accepted.

The initial warm, welcoming statement that " _of course, you are NATO allies and we already have two Belgians in the squadron_ " had been backed up by jokes about the old " _Empire Flying School_ " which had been light-heartedly bandied about. She had realised: " _Their country; their rules_ " and took the good-natured joshing on the chin.

Fortunately however, Harm's promise to visit as a guest speaker at the Squadron's next weekend technical camp had captured everyone's attention and broken the ice in the Squadron hut on recruitment night. Selfishly, it gave him another excuse to fly back to the UK from Italy the next weekend – he could plead NATO business, liaison with the local allies and Continuing Professional Development!

The next camp for the squadron was due to take place shortly, heading south-west down the M3 into Hampshire at RAF Odiham.

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 **Thursday 16** **th** **February 2006, 21:05hrs BST**

 **Home of the Coulter-Rabb family, Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

Later in the evening, as the Coulter-Rabb family finally reached home, Mattie took off her beret and hairnet, removed the pins and shook out her hair back to its normal rebellious volume.

"So Mattie, a good crowd in the Squadron?"

"Yes Dad, definitely." She sighed: "Although I just wish that they'd picked a different nickname for me."

"Well, a nickname is often a sign of respect and, moreover, a sign of acceptance."

Harm thought back quickly to "Hammer" and "Pappy" – maybe one spoke more to "respect" than the other!

"I know, but I just wish it had gone down differently."

"Well, what do the other cadets call you?"

( _sigh_ ) " _The Canadian_!"

Cue sympathetic hugs all around!

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Thursday 23** **rd** **February 2006, 18:45hrs BST**

 **Home of the 1604 "** ** _City of London_** **" Squadron, Air Training Corps**

 **ATC Hut, Scout Grounds, Tottenham Hale, London W1H**

"Fight, flight 'shun!"

The uniformed ranks of RAF-blue cadets stood tall and unmoving, as their Flight Lieutenant announced the details for the trip down to Odiham for the following Saturday, visiting the home of 38 Group and the battlefield helicopters.

"OK, parish notices, ladies and gentlemen. The booby prize for failing to hand in the parental consent forms goes to Cadet Cholmondeley-Warner – oh, thank you, better late than never. Right, thanks to that late delivery, we now have a full set of paperwork. The coach will leave the car park here at 07:10hrs on Saturday; I would ask all parents to ensure that you are dropped off, ready to form flight at 07:00hrs. My mobile will be turned on from 06:25. Flight-Sergeant Evans has the contact sheet – tell her if your mobile number has changed. Don't expect to get here at 07:11hrs and find us waiting for you. Time on target, ladies and gentlemen! Speak to me at the end of tonight if you have problems. Now, to your activities – flight, dismiss."

Alongside Mattie, her Belgian fellow-cadet Anne-Marie Bouchard giggled nervously. Her father, a high-ranking member of the EU delegation to the UK, had needed to be persuaded that he should let his precious daughter mix with these energetic British cadets. Fortunately, it was the presence of " _the Canadian_ " which had helped to persuade him of the wisdom of the exercise. Mattie and Anne-Marie had formed a strong bond of friendship on the first squadron night, where their "foreign" status had marked them out for a (very little) bit of gentle ribbing from the British cadets who made up the overwhelming majority of the ATC squadron.

Saturday's journey out into Hampshire promised to be both informative and entertaining. Plus, her Dad was going to be a guest speaker!

The next night, it took quite a while for Mattie to fall asleep as she dreamed of the day ahead.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Saturday 25** **th** **February 2006, 08:45hrs BST**

 **Parade Ground behind Number three hangar, Royal Air Force Station Odiham, Odiham, Hampshire**

"Fight, flight 'shun!"

Standing on a real parade ground on a real RAF front-line airfield, the cadets all experienced a shiver of excitement. Their CO had arranged for a regular RAF Warrant Officer (the most senior NCO rank in the RAF) to perform the parade inspection and a parade ground drill exercise. The grizzled senior NCO had arrived on a bicycle in his immaculately-pressed Number One uniform, carrying his pace stick along the frame as he parked the bike then strode purposefully towards the flight of cadets formed up on the parade ground.

After 20 minutes of close-order drill movements, all the cadets were moving as one. The Warrant Officer marched them across to the armoury, where each cadet was issued with a standard-spec SA-80 personal weapons system. (A/N: history lesson at the end.)

After a five-minute rehearsal of their drill movements whilst carrying weapons, Mattie and Anne-Marie were the first pair to be formed up at the firing point of the airfield's rifle range. Each was issued with a magazine containing ten rounds of live ammunition – along with ear-defenders. Firing two-round bursts, each cadet gained an appreciation of the effectiveness of the SA-80 and was offered a perforated target to take home to their parents or family groups.

The next part of the day was a helicopter flight. The 26 cadets were split between two helicopters and strapped into the troop seating down the sides of each rotor-craft, which then flew low and fast across the Hampshire countryside until, with a "flare" to kill their forward speed, the helicopters landed on the fluorescent markers - placed 100yards apart - on a patch of neatly-cropped lawn in front of a large Palladian-style country house.

The Belgian and EU flags flying from the flagpoles alongside the British Union Flag should have given a clue. Anne-Marie's father, accompanied by Harm, stepped out to greet the cadets. After cake and hot chocolate the cadets were led into the conference room in the Orangery, where an overhead projector was set up for Harm's talk.

Mattie's daughterly pride was boosted by the engaging, entertaining and above all *informative* way in which Harm ran his presentation. An added bonus was Pierre's 20-minute presentation on NATO (see A/N at end for history lesson part 2).

By the time that the returning helicopters could be heard in the distance, clattering in on their inbound leg to collect the cadets for the hop back into Odiham, everyone was in agreement that they had enjoyed a great day out.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Saturday 25** **th** **February 2006, 19:58hrs BST**

 **Home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

Terri and Harm looked on with parental pride (and some relief!) as Mattie finally stopped bubbling enthusiastically about two hours after she had returned home. It had, indeed, been "a grand day out".

As they watched their daughter relax then fall asleep on the sofa at the end of her day, Harm and Terri linked hands and rejoiced at the turn of events which had brought Mattie to this enjoyable excursion.

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 30 - "Big Mac surprise" (Part 47)**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Next Chapter (31) will follow in around a month, in early November. My plan is monthly chapters until at least the end of 2019, barring unforeseen circumstances.**

 **A/N #1:** Chambered for the standard NATO 5.56x45mm round, the SA-80 (" _Small-Arms for the 1980s_ ") had, when it first replaced the trusty old 7.62mm L1A1 Self-Loading Rifle or "SLR", initially earned a less-than-stellar reputation. Steady improvements (plus the virtual rebuilding of some 200,000 of the original 330,000 weapons by Heckler & Koch) had produced a far more formidable weapon system in the A2 version. At the time of writing (2019), the A3 evolution is under way.

 **A/N #2:** Belgium hosts the NATO central command Europe, over the border from other command structures located at Brunssum in the Limburg region of the Netherlands).

 **Mike, England, 01-Oct-2019**


	31. Rabb family Italian vacation

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 31 - part 48)**

 **Summary: this is a fictional story, in a fictional (slightly) Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005.** It involves a minor diversion from canon in April 1998 and strikes out in a new direction in 2005 after the final Season Ten episode "Fair Winds and Following Seas".

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". **See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N.** Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed. My thanks to "Syrae", my beta-reader.

 **A/N:** Allusion to canon: None – this is Season 11.

 **A/N Publication date 02-Nov-2019** : ...and now, on with Chapter 31: Terri's organisational skills bring the Coulter-Rabb family out to Italy to join Harm for a vacation. Just normal domestic fluff. It is a short chapter this month, but focuses on a little domestic story for the Coulter-Rabb family. I hope you will enjoy. Mike

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 31- Part 48 - "An Italian vacation"**

 **Saturday 13th May 2006, 11:00hrs BST**

 **Home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

Even with "indulgence" flights with the MATS transport network into "RAF" Mildenhall, the travelling was beginning to wear Harm down by the time summer approached.

Similarly, Terri had grown weary of trying to remain cheerful at "stupid o'clock" in the early (or later!) hours of a Saturday morning. Eventually she and Mattie had looked at the possibilities of getting cheap flights to Napoli so that they could surprise Harm and meet up with him.

Terri wanted to greet her husband when he was not exhausted by a multi-hour, multi-runway hop from Italy to the UK.

She also wanted him to spend some quality time with young Iris. This was a task made harder, she often reminded Harm, by her husband abandoning her to go and play with his Italian naval friends!

The family had awoken at 09:30hrs on the Saturday, with Harm and Terri looking after their younger children after sending Mattie off to her Saturday morning meeting with her friends (an increasingly-regular event as the 17-year-old grew in confidence and expanded her circle of friends from school and also the cadet force).

Roughly every fifth weekend, Mattie would keep the little ones fed and distracted to allow the parents a lie-in.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Sunday 14th May 2006, 10:58hrs BST**

 **Home of Capt Harmon Rabb, Jr, USN JAGC and LtCdr Teresa Coulter-Rabb. USNR**

 **Bryanston Square, Marylebone, London W1H**

"Harm?"

"Hmm?" Harm was almost comatose, nested across Terri's stomach as they lay on the couch in their living room. He had relaxed in the hour since a very leisurely Sunday breakfast after he had surfaced, following a better night of sleep than that following his arrival into the UK.

"How about we all come out to you for a week in Italy? The school half-term break is coming up and we could probably arrange a deal on flights?"

He rolled over and kissed her. "Darling, that would be really great; please make it so."

Two weeks later, the Coulter-Rabb entourage embarked on their flight to the small Naples airport in Italy.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Saturday 27th May 2006, 14:02hrs CET**

 **Arrivals Hall, Capodichino airport, Naples, Italy**

"Hey Dad, where's the car?"

Mattie guided Ellen and David, while Terri carried little Iris through the terminal. Harm greeted his family warmly, then led them out to the parking lot where his rented Fiat Ulysse people-carrier was waiting.

"The apartment is too small for a family visit, so I've grabbed a top-floor suite at the Marriott for the duration."

"Good foresight, Tomcat; the kids will remember this for all the right reasons." She straightened from latching Iris' crib into the seat mounting, turned to Harm and smiled, fluttering her eyelashes. "Plus, I reckon that Mom and Dad should have some quality time as well – back in the apartment."

Harm's face lit up in delighted anticipation.

"You know Terri; I like the way you are thinking."

She leaned in and kissed him as he continued: "I am really missing your closeness at night. But we knew that separation is a part of military life. So I thought we could slide back to the apartment one night – I've asked Mattie to run her 'big sister' routine for a night – whaddya think, Teresa?"

"Tomcat, I also like the way that *you* are thinking."

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 29th May 2006, 21:17hrs CET**

 **Apartment complex, Via Appia Nueva, Naples, Italy**

"Oh wow, what a lovely apartment."

Terri was impressed with the nest that Harm had built for his time in Italy. Whooping joyfully, she launched herself onto the massive bed and rolled over onto her back, inviting her husband to join her. Before leaving the Marriott, she had left off one item of clothing which now sat, clean and unused, in her handbag. This meant that she would be able to watch the surprise on her husband's face as he got close to her…

He gently removed her shoes and ran his hands slowly up her bare legs, probing under her skirt as he reached higher, gazing adoringly into her eyes until he found…

"Teresa, naked under this lovely dress! I didn't think that you were that kind of girl, Mrs Rabb!" His fingers began to probe and she rolled over, trapping his hand beneath her and smiling.

"Well husband, it's very simple – I didn't want anything getting in the way of my lover when he joins me. Plus, because I *really* don't want another pregnancy and we haven't had you 'fettled', it made sense to use a cap. So I amended my layers of clothing and then got myself ready just before we said farewell to the kids and headed for the car."

She stretched beneath him, reaching for his belt buckle and spreading invitingly as his hands worked at the zipper on her skirt.

"Come on, my Tomcat stud. Remind me why I married you."

"Yes, ma'am."

It would be quite some time before the lights in the apartment were extinguished!

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Tuesday 30h May 2006, 07:12hrs CET**

 **Apartment complex, Via Appia Nueva, Naples, Italy**

"That is truly a lovely view of the bay, Harm."

She felt his arms wrap around her from behind, carefully avoiding dislodging the cup of coffee in her right hand. She felt his hand reach out and caress the rings on her left hand. She turned her head, away from the view and looked into his loving eyes.

"Teresa, thank you for that day when you didn't take 'no' for an answer. I rejoice every day, that you and I got together in the Navajo Nation and I love the family that we have built. I could not have asked for a better mother to guide *our* Mattie through puberty and onwards towards adulthood. She is very lucky to have you – and our babies are just wonderful little copies of us, each with their own little personalities."

She dipped her head to kiss his knuckles. "Well Harm, I reckon that *we* can be proud of Mattie. She obviously comes from good genetic stock (and I obviously need to pay tribute to Margaret there!) but I love *all* of our children, from the littlest to our eldest daughter. I had gotten to believe, around ten years ago, that I would never have a family – I honesty had convinced myself that the Chaddock curse had me in its grip. But then, I get dragged out to Butthole Arizona and meet this massive personality. Did my luck change that day we met!"

She put her coffee down on the table and turned in his arms to face him. "Harm, I am not sure if I have said this in the eight-plus years that we have been together, but you *complete* me. You absolutely make me a complete woman, wife, mother, lover…."

He kissed her passionately and took up the mantra: "…and friend, companion, confessor, supporter, critic, coach, head of household. I love you so much."

"Well, Harmon Rabb Junior, that is very handy. Now come on, lover boy, let me show you just how much I love you, all over again before we head back to the hotel."

"Yes ma'am."

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Tuesday 30th May 2006, 10:54hrs CET**

 **Suite 17, top floor, *** Marriott, Naples, Italy**

"Hey Mom, hi Dad."

Mattie barely looked stressed after her night "in loco parentis". The younger members of the Coulter-Rabb tribe were all dressed and ready – even Iris was looking comfortable in a clean onesie, sitting up in her porta-crib and waving at her Mommy.

"OK kids, I propose two hours of sightseeing then a leisurely lunch at a little Trattoria which I found a while ago. Everyone OK with that?"

Nods all round signified that Family Rabb was agreed and ready to roll.

All too soon, the Rabb family excursion to Italy was at an end, but everyone left Italy with a store of very happy memories of a great week in Italy.

Upon their return to the UK, the usual working, schooling patterns and nursery routines soon re-asserted themselves.

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 31 - "An Italian summer" (Part 48)**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Next Chapter (32) will follow in around a month, in early December. My plan is monthly chapters until at least the end of 2019, barring unforeseen circumstances.**

 **Mike, England, 01-Nov-2019**


	32. Andrew, Faith and Skates

**Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse. (Chapter/Phase 32 - part 49)**

 **Summary: this is a fictional story, in a fictional (slightly) Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005.** It involves a minor diversion from canon in April 1998 and strikes out in a new direction in 2005 after the final Season Ten episode "Fair Winds and Following Seas". Time-wise, we are now

 **A/N: AU:** " _they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself_ ". **See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N.** Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed. My thanks to "Syrae", my beta-reader.

 **A/N:** Allusion to canon: Mention of "Crossing the Line" (S02Ep05, 31-Jan-1997); Kate Pike final appearance in "Touch and Go" (S06Ep10) first broadcast 09-Jan-2001. From the canon time-line of JAG, we would now be well into "season 12".

 **A/N Publication date 01-Dec-2019** : ...and now, on with Chapter 32: Elizabeth "Skates" Hawkes visits with her aircraft carrier, whilst Faith and Andrew edge forward in their relationship as 2006 draws to a close.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Chapter 32- Part 49 - "Skating over the cracks" of "Andrew, Faith and Skates"**

 **Monday 3** **rd** **July 2006, 14:27hrs CET**

 **JAG office HQ, NATO CINCEURHQNAV, Naval Base, Naples, Italy**

A female USN Officer's hat - decorated with "scrambled egg" - landed on Harm's desk, accompanied by an enthusiastic cry of " _Hey Hammer, how ya flyin'?_ "

He looked up, slightly annoyed by the interruption, but his annoyance turned to joy as he recognised….

"Skates! Hello darling best-ever RIO, what brings you to port?"

Commander Elizabeth "Skates" Hawkes smiled as she pointed out of the window behind Harm.

"That big hunk of CVN iron in the harbour, Harm. We've got a four-day liberty before we head off east down the Mediterranean for "destination unknown". So the skipper drove the old girl hard over the past three days, to get us here a day ahead of July 4th for the celebrations."

They walked together around his desk and hugged. As always, their embrace was respectful, observing the boundaries which existed between them.

"So, still the single girl about town, Skates?"

She shrugged. "Yeah I know, but I just feel (more strongly every year) that life is passing me by. I'm homing in on my 39th birthday..." She paused, uncertain after disclosing that nugget of information. Harm would have taken at least five years off that figure, had he not already known the truth.

Then she smiled and looked up at him. "But then, I get to play with $47million F/A-18s on Uncle Sam's dime - *AND* I get paid for having fun! What's a girl to do?"

"Go with the flow, Skates. How long are you ashore and could I offer you a meal? I can offer either home-cooked in my apartment or we can go out and enjoy Naples."

She thought for a moment, then smiled. "If I bring wine and arrange a taxi, might I choose the home-cooked please? I think that should protect us from any hint of impropriety?"

"Of course; tonight or tomorrow?"

"How about tomorrow? I want to hit the shops today; I have another cousin's wedding at the end of this cruise, so Italian leather shoes and a designer dress seems like a good way to remember Naples."

"That sounds like a plan, Skates; need a hand with the dress choices?"

She looked at him, thinking over his offer. "Well Harm, a heterosexual man choosing clothes for a single and unattached female sounds like a pretty good idea."

Then she sighed: "Apart from the fact that we are Navy."

"Yes Skates, you are right; darn, I would have been pleased to help you."

"Well Hammer, it's just the way that we've signed up to let the Navy control our lives. But I couldn't have wished for a better friend over the years - or a personal shopper for this trip."

After Skates had headed off, Harm strolled down the corridor and asked his local Italian liaison officer, a statuesque black-haired Italian Air Force colonel, where she would recommend for clothing purchases.

"I presume that this is for the small _signorina_ who visited you a few minutes ago, _Capitano_?"

"Yes Francesca, it would be. My former colleague needs to acquire clothes for a wedding back home in the USA when she returns from this deployment."

"Well, in that case I can recommend….." (she rattled off three local shop names in Italian – which promptly went straight over Harm's head). At his pained expression, she picked up a piece of paper from her desk and clicked her pen.

"All these shops will give your colleague a good choice of outfits – and the shoe shops in ***** are the best in Napoli." She smiled at him, unconsciously leaning forward towards him. Her efforts were, of course, thwarted by the neatly-buttoned front of her uniform blouse, but Harm imagined a brief vision of what treasures were being restrained within. The presence of a wedding ring on her right hand, in the Continental style, reassured him that she was simply being friendly.

"Thanks Francesca; much appreciated. If you can write down the shop names and addresses, I can text them to my colleague before she gets into her taxi."

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Tuesday 4** **th** **July 2006, 16:50hrs CET**

 **JAG office HQ, NATO CINCEURHQNAV, Naval Base, Naples, Italy**

Harm closed up his desk and locked the wall safe before heading out to drive down to the dockyard and the foot of the gangplank of the CVN.

As always he felt a slight pang of memory as he approached the flat-top – remembering both his time aboard and also his father's time on the Tico and other carriers in the 1960s. He had been ready to leave the office a little earlier, before his cell-phone had pinged with an incoming text.

" _Harm, I'm running late – could I change at yours before we head to eat, please?_ "

A few minutes later, Beth Hawkes strode down the gangplank in her "peanut butters" towards him, carrying a long suit-cover over her shoulder. Harm recognised several additional medal ribbons on her rack. "Skates" had been a busy officer!

"So Skates, what have you been up to? New medal ribbons, I see?"

"Yep Hammer, but they won't warm my bed."

She sounded a little upset, so he looked deeper into her eyes, one eyebrow raised.

She shrugged. "You remember when we met that very first time, that I said a woman in the Navy has to give up a little bit to be one of the boys?"

He nodded.

"Well, I nearly made a mistake on this cruise; fortunately nothing happened because we realised in time, but it's made me hyper-sensitive to how I interact with the great bunch of guys and gals whom I work with and command."

She sighed again. "Plus, when we were back Stateside late last year, I went to the wedding of one of my shipmates. He married his high-school sweetheart – a lovely girl and she looked gorgeous at their wedding."

"You were invited?"

"Oh yes, shipmates and squadron mates were invited. The thing is Harm, as he slipped the ring on her finger, it looked like such a normal part of life and I wonder if life is passing me by."

"Well Skates, if that were the case, I am sure you would have done something about it. You are a level-headed lady and you'd work out a solution. At least you wouldn't go overboard with a colleague". He laughed and, after a moment, Skates joined in.

"Thanks Harm, you are a great platonic boost to a girl's ego."

"No problem, friend; come on, let's get you changed and then let's get away into town. What did you think of my Italian liaison officer's recommendations which I texted to you yesterday?"

"Harm, they were fantastic; I got three outfits. Then I hit the shoe shop that she recommended and – oh wow; four pairs. I had to beg space from one of my male colleagues I the flight-bags; not sure what his RIO will say if he spots the blood-red stilettoes." Skates was bubbling, once more, with her customary zest for life.

Harm laughed: "let's assume that they are not his size, heh?"

She nodded, then lifted the suit-cover on her arm. "I only have time to show you one outfit while we have dinner, but please thank Francesca for her advice. I just need to change, so could we use your office or your quarters please?"

"No problem Skates – there is space at my apartment; after that, I have decided to take you out so that you can show off your new dress and maybe attract the attention of some Italian hunk."

"Thanks Hammer, I knew I could rely on you."

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Tuesday 4** **th** **July 2006, 17:34hrs CET**

 **Apartment complex, Via Appia Nueva, Naples, Italy**

"Thanks for the chance to change. Would you mind if I took a quick shower – better to try clothes on over a clean body?"

"Actually Skates, I was going to make that suggestion; down the hallway, second door on the right is a full en-suite second bedroom and the fresh towels are always on the warmer. Follow me, then I'll leave you and wait in the lounge."

Harm led the war down the hallway, placing her sea-bag onto the bed and backing away.

"I'll go put some coffee on; come find me in the kitchen."

"Thanks, Harm."

As she disappeared behind the guest bedroom door, Harm had a sudden flash of " _might-have-been_ "; he realised that he could have been condemned to a life of unsatisfactory and inconclusive relationships as he headed towards middle age. He was so grateful for having met Teresa Coulter in Arizona on that fateful case in April 1998 and he knew that he was truly blessed.

A while later, Beth Hawkes appeared in a closely-shaped dress which would be just perfect for the wedding. Harm was sure that some lucky guy was, one day, going to be *very* appreciative of Beth Hawkes.

The finishing touches were a lovely pair of high-heeled patent-leather shoes in a perfectly-matched shade to loop complement the dress. He handed her a cup of coffee.

"Skates, it has been a pleasure to help you in this quest. I really hope that you will have a great wedding. You know, dressed like that, the unattached men need to look out!"

"Gee thanks, Hammer – you are a great tonic for a girl's ego. I really appreciate your colleague's help."

The early table at the restaurant was ready for them and they had a convivial couple of hours conversing and catching up on the news and exploits of their former colleagues and mutual acquaintances before sadly having to ask for the check.

Ten minutes later, "Hammer and Skates" were once more driving back to the naval dockyard in the companionable silence of long-term comfortable friends.

But Harm really wished that Beth Hawkes could be as fortunate in love as he had been with his Teresa. She deserved happiness. He worried that the incident with the recently-married bridegroom fellow squadron XO had dented her customary self-assurance.

He was realistic enough to know that, sometimes in life, these things happened – as was evidenced across his own circle of close female colleagues. He lamented the cruel twists of fate which had bedevilled Kate Pike's increasingly-desperate attempts to find long-term happiness. These had led her into choosing a succession of men who – quite clearly – did not share her desires for long-term stability of relationships and who simply took from her.

No, he simply didn't want it happening to "his" Skates, although clearly her love life was something over which he had *no* control, obviously! Somehow, her previous comment about regarding him as " _the annoying, lovable big brother I really didn't want_ " – spoken in a complimentary manner – struck home.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Monday 31** **st** **July 2006, 23:34hrs CET**

 **Apartment complex, Via Appia Nueva, Naples, Italy**

One evening, Harm was delighted to receive a text message on the last day of July, from his former Marine JAG lawyer colleague Sarah "Mac" Mackenzie-Baptiste. The signature implied that it was a mass-broadcast:

 **"** ** _It's a boy: we are calling him Joseph Alasdhair. Sarah_** **"**

The next day – by phone obviously - Harm and Terri arranged a bouquet of flowers for the mom. They also arranged a cash contribution to the beginning of young Joseph's college fund. Both gifts were gratefully acknowledged within a few days.

Terri was quite clear as she explained to Harm that they now had another reason to visit the San Diego area. She was comfortable with the idea of Harm maintaining the now-distant friendship with "his" former Marine JAG colleague.

She added the names of Sarah, Alasdhair and Joseph Mackenzie-Baptiste to her list of Christmas card names and addresses.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Thursday 14** **th** **September 2006, 14:34hrs CET**

 **Apartment complex, Via Appia Nueva, Naples, Italy**

Harm had fully settled into his intra-European commuting routine over the summer and his family had flown out at the end of August for another " _week with Dad_ " vacation. Everyone had enjoyed this second family vacation and plans were forming for a Christmas gathering.

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

In London, another relationship was steadily – if slowly and cautiously – developing and ripening through the course of 2006, continuing to bring two damaged and wounded souls together as the year moved into the " _mists and mellow fruitfulness_ " of the autumn..

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Thursday** **23rd November 2006, 18:19hrs BST**

 **Suite 604, Marriott Hotel, Grosvenor Square; London W1K 6JP, UK**

Even after eleven months, the decision over "what to wear" was no easier every time she prepared to meet Andrew for an evening. Faith had realised that she still looked forward to every meeting with trepidation, but a determination that she would could relax (and "unbutton") a little more. Eventually she settled on a red v-neck cardigan, over a black skirt and heels.

They were meeting up with increasing regularity, as Faith's confidence continued to grow steadily as she moved further onwards from the awful experiences which had befallen her in 2002.

When they had parted at the end of the previous evening, Andrew had suggested trying out a new restaurant a short distance away tonight, so she met him in the hotel lobby with a raincoat over her arm.

Unlike their earlier (and some previous) meetings, there was now no hesitation when they embraced. A solid, passionate kiss began the proceedings. An involuntary sigh escaped Faith as she relaxed into Andrew's embrace. She quickly regained her focus.

"So Andrew, where are we heading tonight?"

"A little Italian restaurant in Heddon Street off Regent Street – they have some quiet tables but you will be in no doubt that you're in an Italian family restaurant, so Sunday evening should be fun if we go back there on Sunday" Andrew replied. "Come on, I'll go whistle up a taxi."

"Well, if there is no sign of a cab, just ask the Concierge."

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Thursday** **23rd November 2006, 18:45hrs BST**

 **Ristorante Piccolino, 21 Heddon Street, off Regent Street, London W1B 4GB, UK**

The canopy-covered outside terrace looked far too cold for intelligent life to survive, so Faith was happy to walk straight past the smokers and into the warmth of the restaurant.

The "running the gauntlet" of smokers was becoming an increasing problem across the United Kingdom. England was in the countdown to implementing a legal ban on smoking in all enclosed public places and work places, which would come into force in England on 1 July **2007**. Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales had already taken the plunge over the previous 18 months.

Some restaurants in England – encouraged by the majority of their customers – had implemented early adoption of smoking bans.

The maître d' greeted the couple and led them to a quiet table off the main area. Faith selected a glass of dry white wine whilst Andrew chose a lager, to accompany them as they perused the menu.

"Andrew, Terri and Harm send their regards; they were very pleased to hear that we'd be meeting again so soon after last night. Oh, thanks for a lovely evening yesterday; I haven't relaxed and had a normal conversation like that since – I dunno, probably *ever* if I am being honest". She sipped her wine and smiled at him.

Andrew's spirits were soaring at the feedback from this lovely tall American lady. Somehow, this just felt *so* right after the many months that they had been meeting up since that first collision in the embassy. The conversation drifted comfortably through the starters and was well into the main course when Andrew put down his knife and fork, then looked up at Faith.

"Faith, my children will break up for their Spring-time half-term school holidays in just under three months from now, in late February. We shall be travelling down to the estate in Wiltshire. Would you like to (and would you be able to) travel down and visit us at some point during that week? I realise that you may need a couple of months to line up your transatlantic schedules."

Faith gazed at him, speechless, for several seconds before she formed a response, eyebrows raised.

"A country estate – Andrew, have you been holding out on me?"

He blushed. "No, not really – well, yes slightly! It was more a case of not wanting to intimidate you and – please don't be offended – I wanted to be sure that I hadn't met what the family lawyer always describes as ' _an American carpet-bagging gold-digger'_ . It's a warning that she issues whenever I explain to her that I don't want to spend the rest of my life alone. The choice of nationality is entirely random – Genevieve warns me about all potentially predatory females."

Her eyes sparkled with mock anger and she pouted. "Well, I don't know whether to be insulted or honoured." Faith let him stew for about two seconds of silence, then smiled warmly. "OK buster, what's with the Wiltshire estate? How much of Wiltshire do you own?"

Andrew relaxed once more and began his explanation...

"The Burridge family stretch back to the Domesday Book. We have occupied the same part of our valley for over five centuries and we keep the house as our family base for summer holidays and Christmas and New Year and Easter events away from the London home in Baker Street. The estate is a working agri-business and the farm managers run the site. The house ticks over during the year and is a lovely relaxing base for the children; I actually did quite a bit of crying there late last year as I was licking my wounds after 7/7."

He looked across the table at her and smiled: "But not anymore!"

She leaned in, resting her elbows elegantly on the table and framing her face in the palms of her hands as she looked closely at him. "Oh no?"

"Nope, because I have encountered this amazing, intriguing, damaged-but-healing, still-secretive-but-opening-up American lady who has captured my heart and – more importantly – has taught me that I can believe in love again."

"Wow!"

Faith sat back in her chair. Never – ever – had any man expressed his attraction so clearly to her or paid her such a clear compliment. Perhaps she *had* missed out in her life "before" it was turned on its head in 2002?

She only needed to think for a nanosecond before she had framed her response. She produced a small notepad and a Mont Blanc fountain pen from her handbag.

"Well, Andrew, in that case, allow me to put your mind at ease regarding gold-diggers. Have you heard of this company?"

She wrote down the name of the pharmaceutical company originally owned by the man who had kidnapped and tormented her.

"Yes – a British company but growing world-wide, I understand." Andrew was intrigued by Faith's reaction. She hadn't shut down, or become annoyed, at his comment about gold-diggers. In fact, she had smiled enigmatically as she had reached for her handbag.

His eyes fell on her wristwatch – the only jewellery visible near her bare hands. He recognised a Patel Philippe 1997 Aquanaut ladies watch – not cheap by anyone's budget. And those teardrop diamond ear-rings weren't cheap either. The red-soled stilettos looked to be genuine products of Christian Louboutin. The Hermes scarf could be a repro but somehow that didn't fit with the image of Faith which he was assembling…

Suddenly, Andrew was looking at Faith through a whole new prism of appreciation. He tuned into her answer.

"Well Andrew, I own one percent of the worldwide revenue, in perpetuity, as compensation for what happened to me – because the company owner was the perpetrator of my torment and impregnation. So it would be more likely to be *me* worrying about a gold-digger seeking to get his hands on *my* assets!" She smiled warmly. "Oh, your estate in Wiltshire and your kids' birthright is safe – trust me when I say that I know lawyers who will write great pre-nups!"

She reached across the table, patted his hand and drained her wine-glass, beckoning to their waiter in the international "scribble" sign miming a signature to request the bill. The young woman nodded and headed to the cash-register.

Andrew's rapid re-assessment of Faith's financial standing was reinforced when she produced a Black American Express "Centurion" card to settle the bill. This was clearly no ordinary American sailor – but, in fairness, Andrew had begun to realise that fact some months before!

She reached out once more across the table to intertwine her fingers with Andrew's.

"Come on my darling, we've got over the hesitation. I think it's time I paid the bill and then we headed back to find a bed." She had picked up the British idiom for what she would naturally call a "check" back home in the USA.

Andrew's head was spinning. This evening was spinning *way* too fast – and yet he felt completely at peace.

"Erm – a bed? Faith? Are you sure?"

Faith stood up and moved around the table. She slid her arm under his, then gently hugged him as she stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

He realised that this previously-abused, tormented and damaged women was taking control, in a highly-visible way, of her life. He was delighted – and honoured - to be around to watch the butterfly emerge.

"Yes my darling Andrew; how else are two people, who are going to become engaged to be married at some point in the future, going to get to know each other? I think that we should announce on Valentine's night next year – or in 2008, a year from now. I'd like to choose that specific date in the year, because that is a very significant day for me – the anniversary of my capture - and I want happy memories for the future. Also my children will be old enough at that point and celebrating their birthdays."

She paused: "I mean that they will understand – or do you believe that we need to take a further year to prepare them?"

"Do you know, Madame Sailor, I *really* like the way you think. What's another year between friends?"

"Andrew, let us continue our discussion in my hotel room."

As they headed out, arm-in-arm, down Heddon Street to find a taxi on Regent Street, only one thought echoed through Andrew's mind.

 **"** **Thank you, Lord."**

ENDS.

 **** END of "Cigars, Bones, Babies and Jimmy Blackhorse" phase 32 - "Skating over the cracks" (Part 49)**

 **TCR &HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR-TCR&HR**

 **Next Chapter (33) will follow in around a month, in early January 2020 allowing for the festivities on my home side of the Atlantic - which will include Hogmanay up in Scotland. During 2020, because of other commitments, I expect to publish a new chapter at least every other month.**

 **Mike, Flagstaff Arizona, 01-Dec-2019**


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